Sky Pierce Pov
1A relic of war never meant for flesh. Epilogue: The Silence of Saints
Roxy was later recovered alive — barely. But when Verena pressed her gloved hand to Roxy’s thigh and began the process — careful, slow, unforgiving — all pretense shattered. “They will hear us.”
There was no time. “We need to remove it.”
“Quietly,” she said. Roxy volunteered without hesitation. But it is holy. But it wasn’t enough. In the halls of the Reclusiam, a mural was painted in her honor. No armor. “We need to remove it.”
“Quietly,” she said. The belt muffled it only slightly as the edges of the capsule stretched her farther than she thought possible. Her entire body resisted — locked up — twisted in silent torment. “I carry the fire,” she whispered. Her journey is one of devotion beyond pride, of suffering beyond honor. But in a galaxy that grinds even saints to dust, her greatest act of service would come not from battle — but from surrender.
