[64] and [Postscript]

[64]

026.739.M41—today

14:48—now

Velgrad, Convent of the Riven Veil

Sister Tara Mull was released from her vows and became just Tara Mull on 364.738.M41. She wears her auto-brace during the day, which lets her use her hands well enough to eat and work. The bishop has taken her as a servant until she can get her dream of keeping bees and handling awful, crawling, six-legged things all day. And she has Castor's thirty-six thousand vik.

She is still pretty, and when she smiles, it doesn't usually look sad. There is a man at her parish's church. His name is Brun. He has one leg; the other is an Army-issue augmentic. She thinks it makes him romantic.

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​

I have only a brief report from Wessex from which to describe the operations of the Inquisition over the past two months. But from that and what I can gain from Enforcer sources, I will say this:

The Sanctifying Truth is badly damaged, broken within by distrust and resentment. And without the Eldar moving among them and eliminating dissent, they cannot regain the unity that once enabled them to conduct operations like the Battle of 198. And the predatory xenos intelligence that once guided them towards evil is dead.

Yet most of the Fear units remain, as does the inner leadership of the heresy. And the scars on Gaervalt's soul from day 198 remain.

The Sanctifying Truth—or whatever they are becoming—launched another attack at the turn of the year, on 001.739.M41. Compared to 198, the damage was light. Only five cities were targeted. Five hundred people were killed and a single prison was overrun. It cost the sect a Fear unit and 110 of their remaining fighters.

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​

One thing of personal significance remains. This time I am glad you have commanded me to include such things. It is not canon, but I hope the Emperor will receive it as my own imperfect prayer.

There is a little-known Gaervaltian saint of the last millennium, Saint Jovan of Vogel, who I only know about because he is from the city near my birth, and he wrote about our time from a thousand years ago. He was not prophesying, except as prophecy reports what is eternally true, but still, he wrote in 735.M40, and he says again and again, "A thousand years from now."

A thousand years from now, a woman will bury her infant son. ​A thousand years from now, a man will bury his friend. ​A thousand years from now, a city will burn to ash and dust, and scatter on the wind. ​​What is the use of pressing on? What is the future but horror and loss? ​​A thousand years from now, a woman will love again. ​A thousand years from now, a man will laugh with joy again. ​A thousand years from now, a city will be built anew. ​​Is this the answer? Shall we weigh good against bad, and press on, because there is light in the dark? ​​A thousand years from now, it will be now again, and a thousand years will stretch ahead, and another thousand years will have been added to the counting of the past. ​​A thousand years from now, fifty generations will have fought to keep the light alive. Three hundred billion Gaervaltians will have lived and died. On other worlds, under the light of a million suns, a billion billion human souls will have been added to humanity's toll. ​​And each one will have shared a piece of the labor. Each one will have laid one step along an almost-endless stair. ​​I tell you that the stair is the answer. How far it leads, we do not know. Where it goes, we cannot see. But the Emperor calls us to take one step. Stand up on the step that was given to you, and lay one step again. Live one short life, and fall, and die, and pass the labor on. ​​Men ask whether their names will be remembered. They will be forgotten! Men ask whether their works will endure. They will wear away and be broken by time! But the place on the stair endures. Every step is possible only because of every step that came before, and every step bears the weight of every step to come. When all that you are is forgotten, the step remains. ​​Cast your eyes back a thousand years. Can you see her unfailing toil? Can you see his dying valor? Can you name them? Can you tell me where they are buried? Yet you stand upon the steps they laid. ​​A thousand years of steps upon the stair will not reach the top. But I tell you that the stair does have a top. I tell you that one day Man will reach it. One day Man will stand unmenaced at the summit of the stair, with every xeno beaten back, every Daemon put to flame, every monster slain. Every evil will lie broken at the judgement-throne of God. Ten thousand years, twenty thousand, a million years, a billion billion billion steps, a billion billion billion souls. ​​And on that day a woman will bury her infant son. ​A man will bury his friend. ​A city will burn to ash and dust, and scatter on the wind. ​And there will be another stair.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

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​

I have done as Elin suggested. I have used resources whenever I could. I asked others for their memories, though I accept all responsibility for factual errors. I have prayed without ceasing. I have laid my soul bare.

This concludes my report on the events on Gaervalt over the past year.

[Postscript]

I do not know if you will want me, having now read my report. If you command me, I will be yours, and I will not regret being yours. I will serve with gratitude and praise to the God-Emperor, believing that my lot is good. But if you ask me, I will refuse. If others can take that part of humanity's burden, I think they will do better than I. If I can be spared, I would not risk becoming what I think your service would press me towards being.

If you permit me to refuse, my life will still be service with gratitude and praise. The Sisterhood is my home. It is my blessing to have vows to keep, and service until death is our way. There will be new friends to love and the joy of knowing that I have fought well and driven back the dark.

But perhaps I will follow Tara and ask the bishop to release me from my vows. I must pray and speak to Tara and Elin and Fr. Phaedo. I could leave this home behind for another. I can find a man to love and marry, raise strong sons to fight the Emperor's wars, and raise brave daughters to raise strong sons. I would not keep bees, though. They have too many legs. I would keep chickens and live next door, somewhere with good cover and an overlapping field of fire.

In submission to your will,

Sister Marisa Ven

Adepta Sororitas

Order of the Riven Veil