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Heels snapped across the floor as Evaine marched down the hall, Corswain hot on her heels. Another pair of Dark Angels followed him, their ceramite noisy as they followed closely, guarding her from all threats. Her high ponytail swung sharply as she walked, a bright flare in the dark halls of the Palace.
Terra was still burning, but the last of the traitors were being purged now. Portions of the walls were shattered open, torn and tattered banners and curtains clinging to the walls. Servitors shuffled down the halls, cleaning bits of rubble, tech-priests hissing binaric orders to others to repair the worst of the sparking electronics.
The smell of death was carried by cold winds and her jaw tensed. The veil was so thin here, even she could smell the reek of it. Sulphur, disease, ichor, blood, gore, a cocktail of chemicals swirled around her whenever she passed a shattered window. She wouldn’t go without a suitable guard for quite some time, not until they were sure Terra was cleansed.
She shoved open the grand doors, not stopping for a moment. A gathering had been summoned, the wives of the present primarchs brought together. Philomena was pacing back and forth, hands clasped tight. She stopped when Evaine entered, looking up sharply and then softening.
Evaine extended an arm, embracing Philomena tightly. The doors closed behind them, bathing them in the flickering orbs of light hanging overhead. An erratic collection of Astartes filled the room, each guarding his Legion Mother. Beside Arunet a large wolf sat, sharp eyes as uncomfortably intelligent as any human.
Philomena’s hands were trembling as she held her upper arms, squeezing her tightly. Her eyes were bloodshot, thin wisps of grey jutting out from her usually tight braid. “How are you?”
Evaine gave her a small smile. “I’m well, Philomena. When was the last time you slept?”
Philomena opened her mouth, but Kilamata’s soft voice chimed in, “She’s barely been sleeping.”
Philomena couldn’t give the woman a real glare and turned away, releasing Evaine to take her mug of recaf. She drank a hearty mouthful of it, exhaling heavily. “I need to help Rogal. Our sons need me.”
One of the Dark Angels pulled out an empty chair for Evaine and she settled in, nodding in greeting to her sisters. She laced her fingers under her chin, leaning forward on her elbows. Her eyes dragged across her sisters, analyzing them with a cold stare.
Dafne was still crying, as expected, a damp handkerchief pressed tight to her eyes. Soteria’s gaze was distant, frost crawling up her spotted skin, but she was present. Sarnai looked more reserved than ever, her fingers twisting and tugging at the woven bracelet she wore, beads clinking softly.
Meditrina sat alone, a thick collar heavy around her neck. No one stood with her, though her sisters had not rejected her. Angron’s actions were not her own.
Evilynn looked as though she’d been crying, too, but she’d dabbled her face in white powder. Arunet combed her fingers through the wolf’s fur, but was listening closely, her eyes meeting whoever spoke. Kilamata stared at the table almost entirely blind, nearly unblinking.
Philomena was the worst of them all. Eyes still bloodshot, lips thin, hair fraying. A button of her outer coat was misplaced, put on in a hurry. Her fingers twitched around her mug and she glanced over data-slates laid out in front of her almost erratically. The woman had never appeared so undone.
Once, they had gathered, all of them - even the elusive Melantha. Eighteen in total, now whittled down and nine sat, hearts bleeding and souls weeping. The air was thick with the hum of power armor and the agony residing in each of them now.
Evaine straightened her shoulders. “Our Legions and people need us all. Arunet, you have connections, Evilynn, your kingdom, we will need tithes taken sooner rather than later. Anything you can spare will be greatly appreciated. The Legions will need sons and Terra will need supplies - food, medicine, builders, bodies.” She didn’t ask anything of Dafne yet, not until the woman had gathered herself.
The two nodded, but Philomena snapped a hand to the table, rattling her data-slates. “It will take weeks before either can make such a delivery! We need to move now, Evaine.”
Evaine narrowed her eyes, holding Philomena’s gaze. “Terra will need repair, just look at the Palace.”
Philomena glared at her. “Of course you seek favor just as your previous lord.”
Evaine’s already cold gaze turned to ice. “Lord Guilliman is right to bring supplies needed. It may curry favor, but Terra is bleeding as we speak. What would you instead have us do?”
Philomena jutted a hand out to a cracked window, pointing to the thick clouds of smog and radiation. It was impossible to see the stars, but the point was clear. “Our sisters are out there! Have you forgotten them already?! They need rescue and they are still in system! We can save them, Evaine. The Dark Angels still have their strength, muster them now, before we lose them.”
Evaine frowned deeply, taking a slow breath. “We have warned our sisters of their husbands already. We have both sat with Orithiya and told her of Perturabo’s petulance. We have spoken with Kalyani of Lorgar’s overbearing behavior. Their choices are made and the Thirteenth have cast their net, they are forming a wall now. The traitors will not escape-”
“Then we should hunt them down!” Philomena stood, eyes wide with revenge. “Kill them, bring our sisters home, they are not part of this. You know this, Evaine. You know our sisters.”
“Do I?” Evaine cocked her head slightly, dragging her eyes over all of her sisters. “We are sisters, yes, but we are separated by millions of miles and months to years at a time. We do not have weekly tea or reading clubs. Our husbands are brothers, with even tighter bonds than ours, and yet half of them turned traitor. Fulgrim killed Ferrus. Horus killed Sanguinius and tried to kill his own father. Who’s to say we still know each other? Who’s to say who can be trusted at this time?”
Philomena trembled with rage, her teeth gritted, visibly grinding as her jaw twitched. “Where have you been while my sons died? How easy must it have been, destroying defenseless planets, ending the lives of innocents who were guilty by association alone?”
A shadow danced over Evaine’s eyes and she leaned forward. Behind her, she felt the sheer presence of Corswain step closer, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sigismund do the same, staring at the Dark Angel. “Watch your tongue, Philomena. I had to sleep knowing the Night Haunter prowled the shadows of the Invincible Reason. I saw the bodies of my Dark Angels, their flesh flensed and their organs spilled while their hearts still beat. I watched as ships burned in the void, unable to do a damn thing. You are not the only one who has shed tears.”
Philomena looked ready to strike and Evaine silently dared her to. The Queen had never had to raise a hand herself. The Lioness bore an elaborate dagger on her thigh not just for show. Both knew just how the fight would end.
Evaine’s breath blew out slow and cold, visible in the chilling air. It wasn’t just tension in the air, but Soteria’s brow was furrowed, frozen tears dripping from her eyes. The Salamander behind her stepped forward, resting his gauntleted hand on her shoulder. Ice crawled up the ceramite immediately.
Evaine glanced to Evilynn, tilting her head in silent question. Evilynn nodded and stood, walking around the table to gently wrap her arms around her sister, kneeling beside her chair. The cold immediately began to drop, fading away to allow warmth back into the room. Soteria’s tears returned to pure water and she turned her head, hiding her face in Evilynn’s shoulder.
Philomena sank back into her chair, pressing her face to her hand, her voice cracking, “We need to find our sisters. Nebet is innocent, she fled Horus.”
Evaine nodded once. “I will have messages sent to capture, not kill if any of them are found. The astropaths are strained as is, but they can manage in-system messages easily enough.”
Philomena sighed heavily, her shoulders curving down. The weight of the world was on her shoulders indeed. “They’re innocent…”
Evaine’s eyes softened. “We don’t know that, Philomena. They could be traitors as well. We will have to keep our minds open.”
Philomena shook her head. “You are heartless.”
Evaine closed her eyes briefly, hearing the soft gasps of offense and insult from others. Several began to argue and she held up her hand, standing. “I am what is needed of me. Think of me as heartless if that helps you sleep peacefully, you need it if you’re to be a good mother.”
As she turned to leave, Evilynn’s sweet voice chimed, “Did you see Lucy?”
Evaine stopped, glancing over her shoulder. She nodded and before Evilynn could ask, “She was a shell of a person.”
She walked out without another word, jaw set. The doors were opened for her and she took in a shuddering breath. When Corswain extended a hand towards her, she held her own up, stopping him short.
“I’m fine.”