Rites of Battle

Novice Miriam performed the rites. She had been granted the privacy of this small room as she prepared for the last stage of her training before she became a full sister. The solace here kept her mind free from distractions, letting her concentrate on what mattered. She was no longer an initiate; she would join her fellow sisters in the rigors of battle. She slowly cleansed herself with the blessed waters from the cloister spring, taking care to ensure her purity. The Holy Scripture was before her, the words were beautiful, but failed to truly show the wonder of her faith in the Emperor. Words on paper could barely contain the true glory, of the truth behind them. She had repeated these words for years, but this time they took on an even deeper meaning. She was uplifted be her faith and driven by her hatred for those who would forsake His path or were not fit to walk it.

This was her last moment as a novice; from now on she would finally join her fellow sisters in battle. She removed the strips of parchment that were her only clothing for the last week of fasting, covering herself with the tight black bodysuit of the militants. Over that she slipped on the traditional chaste robe of the Adepta Sororitas. The armor of a sister was a complex work of art and craftsmanship. Passed down from sister to sister for countless generations. She had been required to learn her armors history before she had been allowed the honor of wearing it into battle. The armor was highly detailed, holy symbols adorning it; Purity seals and holy scripts draping off of it. At the mere sight of sisters in battle, the common man would have his faith restored, as he saw them stride through the enemy lines. She had spent the whole of yesterday cleaning the metal, anointing it with oil and learning the history of its prior owners.

She slowly put the armor on, pieces sealing as they connected. It was exhilarating to finally wear it. She admired the intricate work that had gone into making it, there was not a square inch unadorned with icons of faith. Each piece brought her one step closer to this cherished moment. Her finger slowly traced the fleur on her chest. Finally it was time for her to put on her helm; the glyphs flickered to life, displaying vital battle information. The bolter was ready and loaded; she strode out of the room. From this moment on she was not a novice, no longer would she sleep in the novices quarters.

Miriam opened the door to chaos as sisters were running around in full battle gear and vehicles were prepped. She saw Sister Superior Candice motioning Miriam to join her battle squad. The other events after that were a blur, the entire Cloister was mobilized in record time. The official ceremony would have to wait, but all that was clear in her mind was her purpose, her hatred for the filthy Xenos witches. They had been doing unholy acts upon sacred ground, they were to leave none standing, anything less would be disgraceful.

They charged from the rhino up the holy steps. Miriam's bolter firing shell after shell as she advanced, impacting against the gaudy and flimsy armor of the Eldar. The projectiles ripped through the frail bodies and exploded inside them, shreds of eldar tainting the sacred steps. The rousing battle chants blared from the voxes, as promethium engulfed the charging Xenos. Their hellish screams of pain emboldening the sisters in their charge.

Through the chaos and clamor of the battlefield, she heard a distinctive crack ring out. Some of her sisters fell, their sacrifice would be honored and their names written down in the scrolls of their order. The visor flashed and let out a high-pitched squeal as it cracked under the shot. Miriam let the helmet fall as flamers were turned to the ancient crenellations; the cleverly hidden Xenos snipers had no place to move as the holy fires tore into them.

Acrid smoke burned her eyes, but Miriam would not let minor inconveniences stop her. They had stormed into the inner sanctum, the Xenos had heavily entrenched themselves and the fighting was brutal, but the sisters pressed on. The determination of the sisters surprised the Eldar, their fearsome cries and unyielding nature were surprising, other mon'keighs would have broken under such fire and losses. But sisters were different; they were not only driven by lesser concepts like courage and honor. Sisters would fight for the Emperor; their faith alone was enough to see them through any battle.

Through the smoke Miriam saw a graceful silhouette, it did not walk, so much as danced gracefully through the air. The inhuman movement of it was sickening, a perversion of the human body. A piercing screech ripped through the air. Miriam unwillingly froze as she heard it, her body straining to move and fight against the paralysis. All she could do was watch as the large shimmering blade cut cleanly through Sister Superior Candice. The masked face turned towards her and brought the shimmering blade up high. Time seemed to barely move as death inched slowly closer.

A bright fiery beam melted through the banshee’s mask, breaking the alien screech; the body falling limply to the ground. Freed from the prison of her own body, she turned and saw her Canoness motioning to the remnants of Miriam's squad to join in a fresh charge on the battered Xenos.

“A Spiritu Dominatus, Domine Libra Nos...”

The start of the sister's battle prayer from the canonesses amplified voice rallied the broken squads, but was soon drowned out as the sisters joined in. Miriam charged forward with her fellow sisters, determined to exterminate the Xenos witches in His name.