The scent of burnt cordite assaulted her nose with every breath as the woman strode atop a heap of rubble that had once been a shrine to the God-Emperor of mankind. Dirt and debris crumbled under her boots as the woman starred out across the blasted and burning scene before her. She found it quite fitting to have halted the heretic advance at this holy place, and for that small mercy she silently mouthed a prayer of thanks to her Emperor. Her eyes beheld what had once been a beautiful and thriving Imperial city, but taint and rebellion had succeeded in erasing any trace of beauty the landscape once held. All that remained of that once proud city was a glowing inferno that never seemed to recede. It was as if she were staring into the eternally burning fires of damnation themselves.

With her shadow growing ever longer, and the setting suns turning the sky the same deep red as her spiked hair, Canoness Lysandra walked amongst her assembled forces. The heretics had slowly pushed back the Sororitas for days. Bloodied as they were, Lysandra's Sisters still had plenty of fight remaining in their hearts. The Sisters' slow withdrawal had indeed only been necessary because of the sheer weight of enemy numbers, but the situation had changed. With the Emperor's merciful blessing, the Sisters had been able to hold this hallowed soil and blunt their enemy's advance.

The Battle Sisters surrounding the Canoness were filthy and exhausted; their pure white armor discolored by grime and encrusted with the blood of both friend and foe. Lysandra saw Hospitallers dart past her, sprinting from cover to cover as they dressed wounds and carried their more seriously injured Sisters to makeshift medicae stations. Ecclesiarchal priests, exposing themselves to the enemy fire that constantly cracked by their heads, chanted hymns and delivered sermons of Imperial faith to the many groups of Sisters assembled in cover at their feet. The Canoness looked into the faces of these women and beamed with pride to be amongst them; for no matter what their outward appearance, their eyes betrayed not a single sign of shaken faith or resolve amongst them. In truth she expected nothing less for they were The Order of the Sacred Rose.

This rock hard resolve was nowhere more powerfully illustrated than on the countenances of the Celestians trailing a few paces behind the Canoness. They were her most able veterans and she more than trusted every one of them with her life. With the evening sky quickly darkening and choked by the smoke of countless fires, the Canoness turned to her beloved Sisters.

“Something drastic must be done my Sisters,” the Canoness' voice was as firm as the blade of the power sword that hung by her side. “What did you have in mind, honored Canoness?” intoned Sister Mirith. Lysandra turned to regard the commander of her Celestian squad. Mirith's short hair, the same flawless white as her armor, gently rustled in the breeze as the air around them was pulled into the ever growing infernos dotting the ruins. Returning her gaze once more to the ruins, Lysandra continued, “We are without a doubt the only real defense remaining to this world. What remains of the PDF and Imperial Guard are far too scattered, and in most cases isolated, to provide us with any real support. Once again we must rely solely upon our faith.”

Mirith replied without hesitation, “His presence is the only support we shall ever require, M'lady.”

“M'lady, in His name the Sisterhood will obey whatever your orders.” This outburst came from the lips of Lysandra's banner bearer, Sister Lydia. While the girl may have spoken out of turn, the Canoness could not help but to betray the slightest hint of a smile at the younger woman's eagerness and loyalty. In fact, Lysandra was overcome with the pride she felt for the actions of all of her Sisters during this campaign.

“Praised be His name,” whispered Lysandra slightly bowing her head. “Sisters, I know that you will do all that is asked of you and far more. Aye, I know you already have. Without the courage and sacrifice of you and all of your Sisters, this planet would have already been devoured by taint. This world will yet be saved by the actions of the faithful.”

With her eyes moving along the length of what were once the shrine's walls, Lysandra caught sight of something magnificent. For an instant, her breath was stopped as she beheld a marvelously ornate statue of the Imperial Aquila. Standing alone and unblemished amongst the ruins, the majestic golden image gazed defiantly through a ruby eye towards the enemy lines. The Canoness advanced towards the statue; and in its presence, she saw reflected the unrelenting fortitude and belief of her Sisters. Taking off her gauntlet, the woman placed a bare hand upon the surface of the Aquila, tracing her fingers along the platinum inlay. With tears streaming down her face, Lysandra had never felt so close to the Emperor than at this very moment; she knew in that instant what had to be done. The woman slowly knelt before the onyx talons of the statue, talons that tightly gripped a coiling scroll full of painstakingly carved prayers of salvation, and crossed her arms across her chest forming the holy sign of the Aquila. The Celestians quickly followed her example and were in turn followed by others, until soon her entire command was gathered in sight of the statue and kneeling in silent prayer to their god. The Canoness finally rose and issued her orders, “With the Emperor as my witness, we purge this city of its filth!”

Her declaration was met with cheers as her Sisters dispersed to see to their war gear.

As Lysandra jumped back onto the rubble at the foot of the Aquila, she starred into a face washed clean by tears of faith.

“Sister Miranda reporting, M'lady,” said the newcomer, managing to choke out the words between sobs of pure ecstasy. Half of the woman's face was covered with a dirty bandage. Earlier that day, the Sister had suffered a glancing wound from a lasround to her brow. Now, like all of her Sisters, the Sororitas stood before her commander with a barely contained urge to deliver the Emperor's vengeance.

“The Hospitallers saw fit to release you, Sister?” asked the Canoness.

“After your actions just now M'lady, those nurse maids had no chance of restraining her.” Lysandra turned her attention to the woman standing next to the bandaged figure. The smiling face was that of Sister Ratina, a jovial woman who fought like a daemonette. “In fact, I'm sure that none of us can be restrained from executing His will for much longer.” Lysandra's Celestians all nodded their agreement.

As Lysandra cast her eyes upon each of the women, her chest filled with such pride for these her most dear Sisters that she almost began weeping anew. She walked amongst them, clasping the pauldron of each woman in turn; looking into their eyes, she knew that she cherished these women like a mother does her daughters. With one last look at the women with whom she willingly entrusted her life, the Canoness leapt atop the rubble drawing the attention of every Sororitas to herself. Raising her power sword high above her head, the energy snapping in the air, and gesturing towards the lurking enemy forces with her plasma pistol, Lysandra bellowed, “There is holy work to be done here my Sisters, and remember that His eyes are upon you now.”

“Blessed be His name,” chorused the assembled women. Then from out of the crowd came a single question. “But M'lady, what is the rally point?” With her jet black combat cloak flowing in the breeze, the Canoness smiled widely as she replied “The Golden Throne. I will meet you by the Emperor's side!” Lysandra turned and with a hymn as her battle cry, she led her Sororitas into the twilight. The moment that the holy chant began to stream from her lips, Lysandra was greeted with a torrent of lasfire. The bright red beams screamed towards her and hissed as they kissed her armor. With enemy fire cracking dangerously close to her head, Lysandra raised her pistol and sent burning bolts of plasma into the burnt out husks of the ruins before her. Immediately she was joined by her Sisters, whose bolters blew chunks out of the decaying buildings. Lysandra's hymn to the Emperor's glory was raised high above the sound of battle as her zealous warriors all joined in the chorus. The Sororitas' fervor was at a climax and had the Canoness any remorse, she may have pitied the heretical bastards she was about to face. “Purge the unclean, Sisters! With flame and fury send them to her judgement!” The crumbling buildings were soon splattered with blood as the Sisters blew apart every heretic they encountered.

As Lysandra led the charge down the hab block's main road, two men charged out of a doorway with bayonets leveled. What remained of their armor had been defiled with the foul fetishes of the ruinous powers. With jagged blades aiming to pierce her sacred power armor, the heretics rushed forward shouting blasphemy. Without breaking stride, Lysandra pivoted and fired her pistol into each of the men. Their heretical braying instantly turned into screams of agony as the plasma quickly ate through armor and flesh. As she passed their corpses, Lysandra chanced a quick glance to her right to watch as a white armored figure emptied her heavy flamer into an adjacent building; the entire time, with a hymn of the Emperor's might upon her lips. The woman just snorted as burning heretics crashed through windows and doors, their skin blackening as they burned in the streets; only through flame could these creatures be redeemed.

Lysandra found herself momentarily disoriented as a blinding flash, immediately followed by a deafening explosion, stole away all sense of time and space. Slamming her back into the nearest wall, the woman attempted to quickly regain her bearings. Looking to her right, she saw her Celestians filling into cover behind her and was heartened to know that they were still by her side. Throwing her gaze down the road to the left, she caught sight of the source of the searing light. A Chimera sat in the middle of the street a blazing wreck, and the Canoness felt the rage well up inside of her chest at the sight of white armored bodies turning black as they burned. Then as an unimaginably bright beam of energy flashed down the gap between the buildings, she caught sight of the culprit.

Through the gathering gloom of the fast approaching night, Lysandra's attention was drawn to a building facing the intersection at the end of the street; and in the second story window, she saw the illuminated barrel of a lascannon. To make matters worse, the adjacent window flashed with the barking form of a heavy bolter as it threw it's exploding shells down the street into the advancing Sororitas. Return fire from her Sisters was mauling the building's facade, but was otherwise proving ineffectual. As a Rhino burst into flames, further clogging the attack's main route,the Canoness instinctively knew that the time for decisive action was at hand.

Turning to her Celestians she yelled over the cacophony of the battle, “Sisters, if we don't silence that position we are going to lose what little armored support we had left.”

“Aye, M'lady.” came the reply from Mirith, accompanied by a terse nod of her head. The woman leaned towards the Canoness and shouted into her ear, “If it would please you, I could take the squad down that right side alley and hit them from the flank.”

“A sound plan, Sister; just leave Ratina with me and they shall find themselves in a pincer.” With a slap to her shoulder, Lysandra sent the other woman on her way. The Canoness then turned to address the remaining Sororitas, “On me Sister, and keep that melta ready.”

“I am always ready to spread His light, M'lady.” Lysandra could not see the other woman's face behind her sabbat helmet; but by her voice, she had no doubt that Ratina was smiling as she hefted her meltagun.

As Mirith reached the other side of the street, she paused and looked back at her commander. Lysandra gave her the signal to advance; and as her Celestians disappeared into the darkened alleys, she began sprinting towards the objective with Ratina only a step behind. Throwing herself into cover beside one of the burning vehicles, the Canoness paused and glanced to her Sister who gave her a nod of readiness. The beautiful sound of melodic female voices that mingled with the crackling fires and thunderous weapon discharges made for a most eerie atmosphere, but it was in that atmosphere that she felt the most comfortable. With the reassuring sounds of praise all around her, the Canoness made for the left side of the street.

As the two moved from cover to cover, groups of battle Sisters shifted their fire to make way for their comrades. Once on the other side, Lysandra knelt before the corner of a building and signaled for Ratina to halt. Peering around the edge of the rubble, the Canoness beheld a most vile act. Her stomach turned as she saw a group of heretics violate the body of one of her fallen Sisters. Her anger was so extreme that before Ratina could even think to suggest a more cautious plan of action, Lysandra had fallen upon the despicable group with a scream of vengeance. She assailed the heretics with such ferocity that the other Sororitas felt inclined to keep her distance for fear that the Canoness would accidentally slay her in her blind fury.

Lysandra's power sword effortlessly severed limbs and heads as she swept through the assembled foe like a scythe through wheat. Any that attempted to run quickly received a bolt of plasma for their troubles. The sound of her own pulse throbbing in her ears was so great that she could not even hear the screams of the men as they fell around her. As she rounded on the last hostile, the rage in her eyes was a terrifying sight. But not nearly so terrifying as the tremendous strength the Emperor granted her in her fury. Grabbing her enemy by his shoulders, she lifted him into the air and skewered him upon her power sword with such force that the weapon became imbedded into the plasteel frame of the ruin. Before she could retrieve the blood soaked blade, Lysandra heard the crack of debris behind her.

“M'lady!” came the scream from down the alley.

The Canoness turned just in time to see a heretic lunging for her throat with a bayonet in his hand. With not even a milisecond to react, Lysandra locked eyes with her killer. At that moment, the alley lit up as brightly as if it were noon; and as her assailant was turned to ash, the after image of his no longer human eyes was burned into the woman's retinas. As the gloom reestablished its hold over the scene, Lysandra was able to adjust her vision enough to see the form of Sister Ratina warily approaching her.

“Canoness?” asked the woman in a state somewhere between shock and awe. Ratina had served beside her commander on countless fields of battle, but had never witnessed anything even resembling the brutality that had just occurred before her eyes.

“Everything is alright, Sister.” replied Lysandra in a surprisingly soothing voice.

Ratina cautiously moved towards her leader as the other woman, her face and armor still soaked in the blood of the unbelievers, knelt and gingerly pulled the corpse of her fallen Sister to the side of the alley. With her meltagun dangling limply by her side, the woman watched as Lysandra closed the eyes of the fallen Sororitas and covered the body with the woman's combat cloak exhibiting a softness that seemed oddly out of place against the backdrop of such carnal destruction.

“How could they...” Ratina could not even finish her sentence; such was the vileness of what was done to her Sister that she was rendered speechless.

“These creatures no longer bask in the Emperor's light, my Sister,” replied the Canoness as she withdrew her sword from the dangling corpse. As the body crashed to the ground she continued, “I do not assume for any of us to understand the reasons for such sacrilege.” Lysandra was finally able to pull her eyes away from her fallen Sister, “In any case we cannot delay here any longer, our Sisters still require our assistance.”

“Understood, my Canoness.” With the reply still fresh upon the woman's lips, the two had resumed their trek towards the enemy stronghold.

Warily aiming their weapons into every opening they encountered, the women steadily advanced towards the heaviest firing. Once they came to where the road forked, Lysandra called another halt to ascertain the situation. The dull register of bolter discharges was thick in her ears, and a glance down the road informed Lysandra that the heavy bolter still held her Sisters at bay. The Canoness spied a gaping hole in the wall facing her and could detect the shifting of shadows and movement inside. With Ratina at her side, they ran at a crouch towards a low wall only meters from the opening.

Dashing towards their entry point, Lysandra could hear voices speaking blasphemy from the other side of the wall. Creeping closer to the hole, the Canoness made out two men standing just next to the opening. Signaling Ratina to make ready her combat blade, Lysandra activated her power sword and beseeched the Emperor for strength. In one fluid movement, she set upon her enemies. Grabbing the first man and throwing him to Ratina, Lysandra pinned the second against the inside wall and decapitated him. Turning to look towards the other end of the building, Lysandra saw Mirith put a bolt round through the head of a heretic descending the stairs.

The squad regrouped at the base of the stairs, hearing the enemy heavy bolter drumming above them, knocking dust from the roof's supports with every report. “It is good to have you all with me again, Sisters,” said the Canoness, grateful to see that all of her Celestians had made it through the fighting thus far.

“As always we are honored to be at your side, M'lady,” replied Mirith with a slight bow.

As Lysandra began to ascend the creaking staircase, she looked back and called to the others. “With me ladies, our task remains.”

At the top of the stairs, two closed doors stood to the right side of the hall. The cacophony within assured the women that they had reached their objectives. Mirith took position on the first door with Miranda and Lydia, while Lysandra and Ratina took their posts at the second. When she saw that both Ratina and Mirith had frag grenades primed, she gave the signal and both Sisters shattered the doors with their boots and tossed in the grenades. A small pause to wait for the explosion, and the Sisters stormed into the rooms firing. Ratina disintegrated three surprised heretics with a blast from her meltagun as the remaining blasphemer charged Lysandra. The unworthy man did not take more than two steps before the Canoness fired into his head. She gazed without remorse or compassion as the steaming plasma ate away at the man's skull, spilling half charred brain matter onto the floor.

“Clear!” came the call from the next room as the sounds of firing slowly died.

“All clear!” Shouted Lysandra, as she moved towards the window. Slowly striding across the room, her boots clanked upon the ruined floors. As her hands came to rest upon what was left of the window, the still hot barrel of the lascannon hissed and steamed. Gazing down the roadway laid out before her, the Canoness saw that a third vehicle had been destroyed before she had been able to silence the position. The scene before her was a house of slaughter as bodies of heretics and Battle Sisters filled the streets and dangled out of windows. Blood pooled in every crater and shell hole, and the burning wrecks cast a solemn glow over the entire scene. Hearing boots approach, Lysandra quickly recited a prayer for her fallen Sisters.

“Honored Canoness,” began Mirith. “By the Emperor's grace alone the day is ours. Reports all over the vox state that the enemy is in flight along our entire route of advance.”

“The Emperor's grace and your skill Sisters,” replied Lysandra with a genuine smile of gratitude. But as she moved closer to the other woman, her face quickly took on a semblance of grave seriousness. “But I am not interested in the enemy's retreat, only in their destruction. We must hound them, and purge this planet of every last one of those wretched creatures. Their existence alone is an affront to my faith.”

“M'lady, as long as a single Sister draws breath, none of the unclean will survive!” The resolve in Lydia's voice was unmistakable.

“Then so be it my Sisters, on me.” With their Canoness' command, the Celestians filed out of the door. Lydia carried her banner aloft as she led the way with her bolt pistol. She was immediately followed by Mirianda who constantly scanned the gloom with her bolter for targets. Lysandra covered the two women with her pistol as Ratina and Mirith took up the rear. Moving down the hall, Lysandra's pistol cast a ghostly glow along the walls. The moment she planted her foot upon the top of the staircase she felt something wrong, something unnatural in the air. Before she had time to even question her feeling, a horrible scream sliced through the air.

Miranda instinctively snatched the falling banner as Lydia grabbed her head and tumbled down the stairs. The woman was emitting almost inhuman screams as she raked at her hair and began to spasm on the floor. Lysandra snapped her eyes down the stairs to see a lone form standing in the center of the room. The flashing light and crackling energy that surrounded the figure illuminated the entire room.

Psyker

The thought had not even formed into a word before all of the women were pouring their fire into the creature. It was quickly obvious that their efforts were to no avail as an energy barrier surrounding the psyker stopped their rounds dead. After a few seconds of firing, Lysandra felt an irresistible force driving her back. Before she knew it, she and all of her Sisters were thrown into the wall with a mental push from their foe. Fighting against the sheer energy pummeling them, the squad slowly rose and worked their way down the stairs against a torrent of psychic energy. It was a contest of their willpower against his. Bolt and plasma rounds were effortlessly deflected from their target, and even Ratina's meltagun could not penetrate the infernal defenses.

Slowly the Sisters struggled forward and eventually surrounded the abomination before them. Now that they were so close, the women to more clearly see their tormentor through the dancing energy encompassing him. His body was covered in open bleeding wounds, and a mark of Chaos was carved directly into his face. He was slightly levitating as he deflected the blows of the Battle Sisters, and it was almost difficult for Lysandra to fathom how such a twisted and malnourished form could possess such power. It would had been difficult had she not seen similar occurrences countless times before.

“Throne!” spat Mirith emptying another clip from her bolt pistol into the energy field. “We cleared this room, where did this damned witch come from!”

“That matters not Sister, all that matters is we kill it!” Lysandra emphasized her point by venting her plasma pistol and renewing her firing.

With another wave of raw energy, the Sisters were scattered across the room. Soaring through one of the few intact windows, Lysandra fell to the ground with glass raining all around her. As she pushed up from the ground, her hand caressed a familiar form. Turning her head, the Canoness saw that her hand had fallen upon a discarded flamer unit. “From the Emperor's hand to mine,” said the woman as she lifted the weapon and stepped back through the window.

Ratina lay upon the floor still sending streaks of light from her meltagun roaring into the glistening energy shield of their attacker. Lysandra could see that expelling the amount of energy needed to hold the Sisters at bay was beginning to tell on the psyker, and she fully intended to stretch him to the breaking point. Leveling the flamer, she began to pour gouts of cleansing fire into the room. The area quickly became filled with so much light that it became difficult to see anything. As she emptied the last of the fuel canister into her target, Ratina also was forced to reload her meltagun. For a moment, all was quiet as the four Sisters stared at the heretic in their midst inside his crackling orb of sanctuary. In a blink of an eye, the silence was shattered by a cry nearly feral in its ferocity.

Lysandra stared in awe as Lydia leapt upon the witch's shoulders. The poor woman's face was distorted with the pain of the unrelenting attack on her mind. Yet her faith steeled her and allowed her to throw what little she had remaining into her final assault. With her flowing hair sparkling like obsidian in the lightening that danced around her head, the woman plunged her combat blade into the base of the heretic’s throat. The energy field began to slowly dissipate as the psyker focused all of his energy upon ripping apart Lydia's mind. With blood flowing down his back, their enemy dropped to one knee. As blood poured from her eyes and nose, Lydia screamed in agony as she began to saw at the monster's neck. Finally the creature's head rolled across the floor, and what had once been a stream of blood became a river. With his final act of malice, the witch threw the force of his entire mind into Lydia's skull; with a sharp crack and a flash of blinding light, the woman careened into the wall behind her. As darkness once again engulfed the women, broken only by the soft glow of their weapons, they slowly rose and knelt in a semicircle around the broken heap that had once been their friend and comrade.

“The Emperor knows your name, my Sister,” Lysandra managed to keep her voice level as a tear slowly rolled down her cheek.

“If only we could all know such a noble death,” intoned Miranda

“Indeed,” replied the Canoness, turning to face the other woman. “She has taken her place amongst her Sisters at the Emperor's side. One day we will all see her again, but for now we must be content to merely honor the memory of her sacrifice.”

“Glory to the Emperor,” began Mirith. She was joined in chorus by her Sisters, “Blessed be His name.” As the Sororitas rose to their feet, Lysandra led the way out into the broken and burning streets towards the next hab block.

The Sisters had not been in the exposed street for more than a few minutes when their ears were filled with an ominous shriek.

“Incoming! Get to cover!” Screamed Mirith as she dove for the nearest ruin. Lysandra tried to do the same but could already feel herself lifted into the air. The concussion of the blast hammered at her body through her power armor as she was flung to the ground like a rag doll. Landing face down in the rubble, the Canoness' ears were ringing and her head pounding as she attempted to simply figure out which direction was up. All she could detect were blurry shapes and muffled sounds, and then she felt herself moving. Things were still too hazy for Lysandra to fully understand what was happening, but she felt pressure on her gorget and was sure that someone was dragging her out of the street.

As the shifting shapes before her eyes began to materialize, Lysandra made out Ratina kneeling next to her keeping as low as possible. To her right she saw Mirith holding Miranda down as she extracted a shell fragment from the other woman. After administering a dose of stims, Mirith laid the woman down to rest and headed towards Lysandra.

“Canoness, are you injured?”

Lysandra tried to force her mind to focus. She gave herself a cursory look over and found no wounds nor did she feel any outright pain.

“No Sister, nothing more than a bit of singed hair,” she coughed. “I believe it just rattled me.” She tried to manage a smile to the other woman, but her head was still swimming so much that she was not sure if the attempt succeeded. Mirith softly patted her pauldron, “Just take a moment to rest, M'lady.”

Lysandra took the woman's advice and softly laid her head upon the rubble. Rest did not come easily with the constant vibration of the artillery being felt deep in her bones. The world slowly became more clear to her, and her ears felt less and less like they were under water. The woman lifted her body and peered through the dust and gloom surrounding her. She found Ratina still by her side watching the far entrance, while the other entrance was covered by Mirith from the other side of the room. Miranda's skin had lost much of its color, but she was slowly regaining her composure. Lysandra saw that the bandages that were previously covering the woman's face were now wrapped tightly around her leg. The woman gave her Canoness a weary nod of greeting as their eyes met.

Lysandra listened through the crackling static of her vox. Reports flooded in about a massive artillery bombardment all across the front. The heretics seemed to be using every last gun they could muster. Anyone foolish enough to venture out into the street vanished in the firestorm. The myriad flashes were so constant that one did not even need the use of a torch to see. The voice of her Sister Superior grabbed the woman's attention.

“Their situation must be entirely desperate to focus their arty like this.”

Lysandra slowly turned her gaze towards her Sister, “I would warrant that they are simply attempting to stall our attack, and thus buy time to set up another tier of defense. Remember Sister, never underestimate the base cunning and determination of the heretic.”

“My Canoness,” Miranda's sharp voice carried above the rumble of shells. “With all due respect M'lady, no amount of determination can contend with the faith of the Emperor's righteous.”

“You are very correct my Sister, that's why I only said stall,” retorted the Canoness with a smile.

“Let them gather,” chimed Ratina, her usual merry manner had transformed into grim resolve. “It'll just make them easier to kill. I'm tired of chasing these creatures from house to house.”

Lysandra rasped the woman on her helmet as she replied, “Not to worry Sister, the hunt will be over soon.”

“Cover!” cried Mirith as a screaming shell detonated dangerously close to the Sisters' refuge. The women pressed their faces into the rubble as dust cascaded through every orifice of their sanctuary, turning their armor as black as that of Our Martyred Lady. Trying to expel her lungs of the choking dust, Lysandra coughed and spat as she slowly rose and searched through the haze engulfing her. “Sound off!” cried the Canoness, as she staggered to the center of the rubble. Slowly every woman responded an affirmative and Lysandra offered a silent thanks to her God for protecting them. For a single moment the world was eerily silent, no comms chatter, no explosions, no screams; and then she heard it.

Slowly it began, with a single barely audible voice emerging from Lysandra's vox. The tiny voice chorused words that brought comfort and joy into the women's hearts. Before she was even conscious of what she was doing, the same words were streaming from Lysandra's lips. One by one, every woman on the field began to take up the melody until it was no longer simply crackling out of the vox, but was echoing off of the walls of the entire city. The women lifted their voices in praise with such strength that they began to mute the concussions of the artillery, until finally the explosions died out all together.

Bits of rubble clattered down the slope as Lysandra carefully got to her feet. The hymn had come to its conclusion and the women waited for the next salvo of high explosives, but they never came. Through the stifling air, she made out the forms of her Sisters waiting for her command. A breeze shifted the dust hanging in the air, softly blowing it through their hair and scratching their faces. When she spoke it was not only to her Celestians, but to her entire command.

“I ask of one last push from you my Sisters,” began the Canoness. “One more act of holy vengence, and we will stamp out this sickening taint once and for all. Now go, do the Emperor's work!” She was answered by cheers and battle cries ringing through the vox.

“Emperor grant me strength,” mumbled Miranda as she clumsily got to her feet and led the way towards the exit.

“The Emperor protects!” Called out Mirith taking position behind the other woman. The phrase had only left her lungs when the squad's progress was brought to a dead halt. No sooner had Miranda taken her first step into the street then she erupted into a geyser of blood and broken armor. There was no mistaking the dull thud that had preceded Miranda's demise. It was a sound that was increasingly ringing in Lysandra's ears. Throwing herself into cover against a decaying window, the Canoness gazed out into the street and her heart stopped at the sight that greeted her.

Traitoris Extremis

The menacing forms of the hulking warriors were spread across the ruins before her. Seemingly filing out of every building, more came into sight with every passing second. Their armor seemed an even deeper red in this dark night, with flames reflected off of the shinning silver trim. What had once been armor religiously maintained to do the Emperor's will had devolved over 10,000 years into something hideous to the Sister's eyes. Their armor was defiled with the trophies and talismans of the Dark Gods. Their helmet lenses seemed to burn into the soul of every woman that saw that sickening green glow. The enemy discharged their bolters at every step, and all across the line the Sororitas immediately engaged this new and dire threat.

Mirith had taken up Lysandra's banner and was pouring fire into the enemy with her bolt pistol. The woman spat out a curse and as bolt rounds blasted her cover to pieces she exclaimed, “Word Bearers, what is this? There aren't supposed to be any traitor Marines in this sector!”

Between shots, Ratina shouted a response over her shoulder to the Sister Superior, “Why don't you tell them that, Sister.” Ratina's manner suddenly changed and the woman went stark still. “Did anyone hear that?” Just as she asked the question, the wall to her right violently collapsed and a Chaos predator made the room suddenly crowded. Lysandra and Mirith both had to roll to get out of the vehicle's path, then they began dodging the crimson bolts of lasfire from the tank's lascannon as they made for the back of the building. Ratina on the other hand was hemmed in against the wall with nowhere to go and the enemy closing in with every passing second. Acting on instinct, the woman quickly fired her meltagun into the tank's tracks immobilizing it before vaulting onto the vehicle's hull. Standing atop the tank, she poured holy fire into the housing for the lascannon's energy coils. With the telltale signs of the coils reaching critical mass, the woman catapulted to the ground and sprinted towards her Sisters. “Go!” She screamed as she pushed the other women through the ruined windows and into the street.

Bright red flame erupted from the building and poured out into the night. The women were barely able to capture small glimpses of the burning wreck between fresh gouts of flame, but their victory was very short lived. Enemy marines strode silently through the inferno, their armor hissing from the kiss of the flames. Lysandra quickly brought up her pistol and dropped the first few Marines to make it through the ruins. Even with venting, the warning indicators of her plasma pistol displayed that the weapon was dangerously close to overheating. Her attention was suddenly drawn to her right by a series of automatic bursts.

The Canoness looked just in time to see the decimation of a group Battle Sisters as they ran for cover. A heretic Marine caught the women in the open and with his heavy bolter, he tore them to mangled shreds. Her eyes aflame with scorn, Ratina turned her weapon on the Marine and turned his armored form into a melted husk. The traitor fell with a sickening mix of screams and laughter. His scream was joined by another as bolt rounds found purchase and detonated against Ratina's armor. The woman's upper leg was a mess of bone and shredded meat. Mirith came to her Sister's aid and attempted to drag her to cover, but she had only managed to pull the woman a few meters before bolt rounds slammed into her chest sending her to the ground gasping for air before stealing her consciousness. As her banner clattered amongst the rubble, Lysandra found herself alone amongst the ever increasing hordes of traitors. The sight of her Sisters' twisted and broken bodies mixed with the presence of the most hated of all traitors caused Lysandra's anger to rise to a level almost beyond her control. Her muscles were tense as her entire body shook within her armor. With a guttural, almost animalistic scream, the woman launched herself at her foes with a reckless fervor bordering on that of the Repentia. Pure unfettered hatred burned within her eyes as Lysandra shot, hacked, and slashed her way through the tide of crimson armor. Blood flowed so freely from her victims, that the hue of the Canoness' armor soon began to match that of her enemy.

Lysandra thrust her humming power sword ruthlessly through the throat of one Marine, and used the momentum to carry her through a brutal slash to her rear. Blood, glistening in the fires of the night, flew from her blade as the weapon stole the head from a monstrous warrior that had come up behind the Canoness. As the lifeless bulk of the traitor collapsed to the ground, Lysandra felled two more of the abominations before she had the sense of mind to realize that her foes were backing away from her. Standing in the center of the street panting, her armor heaving up and down as her body desperately attempted to cope with her exertions, the lone woman saw that she had allowed herself to become surrounded.

Movement from inside the inferno caught her eye. Lysandra watched in disgust as a revolting perversion of a Space Marine strode out of the rubble, his power maul pointed directly at her. The weapon teemed with Chaos energy, and Lysandra could almost hear it screaming for her blood. Shadow and light danced across his armor making it seem as if it were a churning sea of blood. The armor was adorned with trophies of human, xenos, and daemon alike. Hooked chains dangled from his pauldrons forming a cape that rattled against the ground as the warrior advanced. Amongst this grotesque spectacle, the Sororitas found nothing so repulsive as what lay upon the creature's chest. A pair of severed hands forming a mocking parody of the holy sign of the Imperial Aquila was nailed to the front of the Marine's armor. Lysandra's disgust at such blasphemy could not be hidden.

“You like it, do you? I couldn't have done it without the help of one of your priests,” said the massive warrior with a malicious laugh. The words drew the woman's attention to the Marine's helmet grille, or more so where the grille should have been. There was only a gaping hole in the center of the helmet filled with a collection of jagged and razor sharp teeth as black as coal. Above the teeth, the unblinking emerald lenses shown bright. “I am Xanathor, Champion of the Word Bearers,” bellowed the warrior slowly inclining his spike encrusted helmet. “What are you called, girl? It simply would not do to offer a nameless sacrifice to the gods.”

“I will never have my name touch lips that have uttered such blasphemies,” Lysandra answered defiantly.

“So be it,” growled the champion as he hefted his weapon and crunched across the ruined street towards his quarry.

The impact resonated throughout the ruins as Lysandra, gripping her sword with both hands, brought the weapon up to meet her foe's attack. The force of the strike was so violent that, even with the enhanced musculature of her power armor, the Canoness could barely maintain her footing. With quick strokes Xanathor assaulted the woman again and again, slowly beginning to force her backwards. After Lysandra's last parry, Xanathor broke contact and took a step back to regard her from behind those malicious green lenses. The woman quickly regained her composure and began to close the distance between them.

“Is that all you have fiend? I would have expected more from a Chosen of Chaos,” taunted the Sororitas as she brought her blade down in a cleaving stroke. Her arms shook with the effort needed to keep her weapon tight against that of her foe. Pressed face to face with the repugnant creature, Lysandra could see his teeth shimmer as blood constantly passed through them to drip over the lip of the helmet. “You had such potential,” cursed the woman as she shoved away from his weapon.

“Had? The potential of Chaos is limitless, girl!” roared the warrior as he launched another series of brutal attacks against the Canoness. Checking her assailant, Lysandra crashed the hilt of her power sword directly into the side of Xanathor's helmet. As the champion stumbled, she slashed at the opening in his defenses, but a lightning fast flick of his wrist saw that her attack was for naught. The parry was quickly followed by a gauntleted fist into the woman's chest. As she pulled herself up off of the ground, Lysandra's fingers slid across the dent in her armor caused by the unnatural force of the blow. Putting her weight on her sword, the woman rose to face her foe once more.

Catching her breath as she stared down the Chaos warrior Lysandra asked, “Why did you do it, slave? You were created as the perfect example of humanity. The Emperor gave you everything, yet you spat in His face and gave yourself to the Ruinous Powers.”

Spitting frothing blood towards her Xanathor replied, “As I spit at you! He gave us nothing, he abandoned us!” With unrelenting vehemence the champion continued, “The Dark Gods gave us freedom, you are the slave. A slave to your ideals and your corpse god!”

“I follow Him freely, blasphemer!” cried Lysandra as she assailed her enemy with a tirade of blows. Her righteous fury proved to be no match for over 10,000 years of honed skills as the Marine easily deflected each attack. His counterstrike unbalanced her for a moment, and that was all Xanathor needed to reach in and grab the Sororitas by the throat. Lifting the woman into the air, the warrior stared impassively as his prey.

“You know not what you follow wench! Never forget that I knew him while he still lived. I saw his treachery as he abandoned us at the height of the Crusade!” The passion in his voice carried above the ruins.

Clawing at the armored fist around her neck, Lysandra gasped in air as best she could. “I'm sure you know all about treachery,” she managed. Drawing in as deep a breath as possible, the woman continued, “You were created to be the salvation of humanity, yet you betrayed your own kind!”

“My kind?” scoffed the warrior. “But I am proud to have severed my ties to humanity, such a weak and pathetic species. I am so much more now, no longer constrained by ties of loyalty to a maggot ridden hypocrite.”

Rage cascaded through Lysandra as she bridled at the insult against her god. “Traitor! It is only the weak who break their bonds of fealty and honor.” Fiery hatred burned behind the woman's eyes as she spat her words at the champion. With an almost supernatural strength Lysandra tore the helmet from the warp spawned filth, and with screams of malice she bashed the piece of armor into Xanathor's spike crowned skull. Reeling from the sudden assault, the massive Marine stumbled and released the Sororitas from his grasp. As soon as she hit the ground, Lysandra threw herself at the offensive beast. With all the power she could muster, the Canoness forced Xanathor to the ground and set upon him. Her furious fingers found their target and she began to squeeze his muscular neck with all of her might. A sudden force of impact saw the woman sailing across the street as Xanathor kicked her off of his body. As a walled ruin brought her to a sudden jarring halt, Lysandra could feel cracked ribs and a searing pain coursing through her body. She knew that without her power armor, the blow would have instantly liquified her insides. Quickly injecting herself with a numbing agent from her personal medipack, the Canoness looked up to see the Chaos champion stalking directly towards her with power maul in hand. His eyes literally burning with the fires of Chaos.

“Before I am done with you girl, you will be praying for a quick end,” growled Xanathor as he raised the weapon high above his head.

“I only pray that I serve His will unto my final breath,” responded the woman, steeling herself for the vicious blow she was sure to follow.

As the Dark Gods' champion of ten millennia finally began to bring his weapon down in a debilitating arc, Lysandra's mind turned from resignation to confusion as she saw Xanathor burst like a ripe tomato. The harsh report caused the woman to momentarily lose her hearing as bits of meat and ceramite bounced off of her armor. Lysandra slowly looked up and beheld a black armored warrior wreathed in spectral flame. Her mind boggled as she easily saw glistening white bone where bits of the obsidian dark armor were missing. The storm bolter in the warrior's hand was still smoking from the life saving burst it had just fired. Lysandra's eyes then locked on the glowing blood red lenses of her mysterious savior's helmet. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she eagerly took the Marine's outstretched hand.

“Legionnaire! Emperor's mercy,” gasped the woman in sheer ecstasy.

“Merciful, yes, but tonight we are His retribution.” Said the Marine, pulling Lysandra to her feet before striding away towards the enemy.

The Canoness looked around and was amazed as she gathered her weapons from where they had fallen. Scores of majestic Space Marines, all cloaked in fire, had seemingly materialized out of the blazing ruins themselves. These Legionnaires were slaying the heretics with such ease that it seemed little more than simple butchery. No command was needed, for the surviving Battle Sisters unhesitatingly followed their dark armored deliverance into the maelstrom. A blasphemous battle cry forced Lysandra's mind back to the task at hand.

She parried a wild slash from a Chaos Marine before sweeping her blade down, taking his leg, and then sliding her glistening power sword straight through the warrior's breast plate. Moving forward, she saw her savior grab an enemy Marine in mid step by the gorget and slam him into the ground sliding his combat blade under the traitor's helmet. Together they fought, killing and pushing ever onward. The blazing glow cast by the Legionnaire illuminated the streets brighter than any moon.

Lysandra ignored her pain as best she could. Any enemy she encountered was greeted with plasma and Imperial steel. Slaughtering their way through the corpse choked ruins, Lysandra and the Legionnaire were artists of death and this inferno was to be the canvas for their masterpiece. The hymns and battlecries of the Sororitas stood in stark contrast to the grim silence of the Legionnaires. Building by building and block by block, the faithful eradicated all traces of taint from the city.

Lysandra vaulted over a ruined window sill, and was greeted with the sight of a penitent engine charging headlong into a Word Bearers dreadnaught with flamers blazing into the night. The dreadnaught fired its multi-melta directly into the penitent nearly vaporizing her from the wiring of the control console, but not before she had gotten close enough to lunge at the defiled sarcophagus. The sheer mass of the crippled war machine pinned the dreadnaught to the ground while Legionnaires and Retributors used meltas and lascannons to turn the machine, and mangled traitor inside, into a molten wreck.

Her combat cloak flowing and ruined rockcrete crunching under her armored boots, enemy mortars bracketing her the whole way, Lysandra led the way for her Sisters. Beside her at every step was the Legionnaire, unfaltering in his advance and unscathed by enemy fire. It seemed no harm could ever befall these warriors, the Emperor's will made manifest. Pouring bolts of vengeful flame into their foe, the Legionnaires exacted the Emperor's wraith. The purgation continued throughout the night until every last vestige of Chaos had been scoured from the ruins.

As dawn began to break over the horizon, the last blood choked scream of agony drifted into the sullenly still sky. With their task complete what remained of the Sororitas detachment stood in silence amongst the burnt out hulks of enemy vehicles. The streets and buildings were strewn with bodies and the blood saturated everything. Hospitallers saw to the Sororitas wounded, as Battle Sisters stalked the streets confirming that every heretic was in fact purged. Amongst this grizzly scene the scent of blood and burnt meat signified victory to the Sisters.

The women gazed in awe upon the fire enshrouded warriors as they silently returned to the flames. One by one, their armored saviors marched into the inferno, vanishing back to where ever it was they had come. Some Sisters whispered prayers under their breath, while others just watched as silent as the warriors they viewed. Lysandra's bosom swelled with the feeling of love and gratitude to both her God and His warriors.

“M'lady?”

Lysandra turned and saw Ratina leaning against a Hospitaller with Mirith at their side. Mirith no longer wore her breastplate and her torso was tightly wrapped in bloodied bandages. While Ratina, with her leg missing, appeared barely conscious.

“My beloved Sisters, how are your injuries?” asked the Canoness, fighting the urge to embrace the women to whom she owed so much.

“By the Emperor's mercy, they shall both return to their duties soon enough M'lady,” replied the Hospitaller. The woman noticed the worry on Lysandra's face as she stared at Ratina. “They are already preparing a bionic leg for her M'lady. She is heavily sedated against the pain, but she wanted to see them first.”

“Truth is Canoness, we all wanted to see them,” added Mirith wincing at the effort required to speak.

“Aye,” softly replied Lysandra. “I thank the Emperor for His generosity in allowing us to survive this night.”

“I do believe M'lady, that is a sentiment shared by all of our Sisters here,” said the Hospitaller with a weary smile.

“Canoness?” managed Mirith. “Who were they?”

Lysandra cast her gaze over her assembled force, and saw in their eyes that every Sister wished to know the same thing. Ignoring the pain in her chest, Lysandra leapt atop a wrecked Basilisk to command the attention of every last Sororitas. “My honored Sisters,” she yelled. The same soft wind that blew whisps of smoke through her hair, ensured that her voice was easily carried into the ears of every woman in the assembly. “Daughters of the Emperor,” she continued. “Tonight we have witnessed a miracle. I already hear whispers and rumors concerning the dark armored warriors, and I wish to illuminate you all with the truth on this new day.” Every Sister in the crowd was staring intently at their commander. “The warriors go by many names: the Dark Brotherhood or the Legion of the Damned to name but a few. But they are more than that my Sisters. These warriors are the Emperor's wraith and love, His mercy and justice. They are His creation, they are the instruments of His will, and above all they are perfection!”