Chapter Text
To die without purpose is not a service.
“No! Enough! I will never concede, daemon! I will never submit!”
The voice was weak, shaking, but there was still a thread of steel in it. The steel of faith, unbreakable and pure. It remained even as the woman shrieked in agony, convulsing as the cruel whip descended again on her back. The torn flesh and dripping blood not quite able to conceal the tattoo of the eagle across her shoulderblades, just as the bruises on her face did not hide the fleur-de-lys on her cheek.
The daemonette twirled the lash in its claws, sadistic glee in its eyes, but the warp creature paused, sulkily lowering the weapon at a gesture from the true power in the room. The pale woman who might have seemed human, if it were not for the sharp teeth and dark eyes, whose mere presence was enough to make the skin crawl and the mind wander.
“No,” the daemon princess said. Her tone seemed almost sad, her touch almost gentle, as she cupped the Battle Sister’s chin, gazed into her eyes. “You won’t, will you? You’re too lost.”
Somehow the Sororitas found the strength to tug on the chains suspending her from the ceiling of the cell, jerking away from the clawed fingers. “Don’t touch me!”
“I can taste your fear,” her captor said softly. “Your soul clings to its faith in that shadow on Terra, but your body… your body and mind have little left to give. I could keep pushing. Leave you to the tender mercies of my followers. When they’re done, you’d be a crazed, tainted little monster, and you know it. It wouldn’t take much more to shatter you, remake you into a toy in service to the warp. And you know it. You’ve seen enough good men and women captured by Chaos and subject to such a fate. Eventually your soul would rebel, and you’d find a way to end your personal hell, but in the meantime… imagine what I could make you do?”
The scream in response was quite eloquent despite its lack of words. Hatred, rage, fear, pain… and the earnest wish for death.
The daemon smiled, grasping the woman by the hair. “It’s ok, little one. We’re not all without mercy. I release you from your suffering.”
There was a hiss of displaced air, and the damp crunch of flesh and bone being parted as the sword cleaved through her neck. For a moment, the Sororitas looked confused, but as numbness set in and the darkness took her, the expression became relief.
“Shall I dispose of the body, mistress?” the daemonette rasped. If it felt disappointment at its toy being taken away, it managed to conceal it.
Llthaanhir the Unmourned stirred from her thoughts, and lightly threw the severed head to the underling. “Clean that and add it to the collection. The rest, do what you wish.”
Calmly she sheathed the sword, and then reached out, touching the strands of the warp. Seeking the twists of fate. Oh, the servants of Tzeentch might own them, but anybody could read the portents with a little practice, and she could almost taste the thread of destiny. Something big would happen, and soon.
Her dark eyes opened again, turning to address one of her followers. “Set course for the Pharolyne system. And prepare for war. There are souls to harvest.”