[i]After the Council[/i]

Aboard the [i]Redemption[/i] the newly christened Warmaster worked and brooded and watched as her flagship was transformed to take part in a glorious new era of the Crusade that may never come to pass. The War Council was now hers, the great administrative cohorts that had followed in the wake of her Father’s court now decamping for her own. Thousands of souls and tonnes of documents were transferred, dark holds cleared and state rooms readied so that the already creaking edifice of Imperial bureaucracy could be installed aboard her Gloriana.

Her attention was consumed almost utterly by this effort. But only almost. Among the countless demands of her position, some attention remained for her most beloved of siblings. To see that the Primarchs had already begun to meet and whisper behind her back was of no great surprise, but to see it of Nelchitl stung greater than she had imagined. Her sister was great in her heart, though if pressed she would admit that the Emerald Priestess was only second, and the realization filled it with grief. She was invited aboard the following day, a summons that Daena hoped would be accepted due to her love for her sister rather than her obedience to her Warmaster. At this point she would take either.

No great party welcomed Nelchitl aboard when she arrived, no grand display of banners or massed arrays of martial glories. The Primarch herself did not greet her. Instead, awaiting the demigod were a mere sixteen Astartes. Two ranks of Terminators, seven each, their helms newly ornamented with silver blindfolds. The symbol their gene-mother had augmented her daughters’ panopoly with upon her elevation was meant to symbolize the blind dispensation of Imperial Justice she sought to provide within her office - that each Doomsayer [i]was[/i] Justice - but it had immediately taken a darker meaning to her detractors.

Though she expected no great display upon her arrival, Nelchitl was surprised at what awaited her. She studied the blindfolded forms of the terminators but offered no words as she stepped off of her Stormbird, leaving all but two Terminator clad Serpents of her retinue aboard the craft to much protest from the rest which was quietly silenced with a single wave of her hand.

Beyond the fourteen stood the familiar form of the Praetor Primus, Asha io Qaphsiel, shining spear in hand, and the less familiar form of the Equerry, Yeketerina Ascania, for once not wearing her gene-mother’s death mask. Together, the pair represented the last Terran Marines inducted before Daena was discovered, and the first taken from Irkalla. Both pounded a martial salute to the Primarch, and though the Equerry technically spoke with the Warmaster’s voice it was Asha who greeted the Emerald Priestess.

“It is good to see you once more, my lady,” the young Astartes said, maintaining eye contact with the Primarch. The pair of them had been forged in the fires of Praxia, and she knew well that the divinity cared nothing for meekness before her. “Our mother awaits you in the [i]camera arcanum[/i],” she said, and as one all sixteen Doomsayers turned upon their heels.

“Then let her wait no longer.” Nelchitl answered Asha as she allowed herself to be led away by the retinue.

Despite the flurry of activity within and without the ship, the entourage saw no one cross their path as they traversed the massive vessel’s corridors towards the Strategium nestled deep within its heart. The Doomsayers seemed tense, the Equerry most of all. Closest and most attuned to their gene-mother’s moods, she did not once speak upon the long march, her lips tersely pressed into a thin line. Even the armored forms of the Terminators seemed on edge, as if expecting a firefight to erupt within the halls of the Gloriana. Each bore the Raptor Imperialis upon their knee, but controlled the massive suits with little of the grace expected of such veterans.

Asha attempted to defuse the mood with what she could, but as they finally approached their destination even she eventually fell silent. A massive adamantium door stood before them, decorated with a life-sized mural of Daena pledging her fealty to the Emperor. It opened to reveal the Strategium’s antechamber, the room filled with the mighty of the Legion and its auxiliaries, the assembled women and handful of men looking at Nelchitl with mixtures of relief and awe, those who had not already fought at her side immediately kneeling in the presence of the Primarch.

The Terminators remained outside, lining the wall, as the door closed behind Nelchitl and her entourage. Asha again spoke for the Legion, bowing her head to the Primarch as she did. “Only you are to enter. She wishes to see her sister, and her sister alone.”

A smaller, though still transhuman sized, door opened as Nelchitl approached, bringing her at last into the [i]camera[/i] itself. Daena sat enthroned, but unarmored, choosing instead to wear the void black gown studded with diamonds that shone like stars. With the lumens in the chamber disabled and the only light provided by a stuttering hololith of Praxia below, she seemed to be nothing more than a head and a pair of wings, suspended above a column of starlight. The door closed, and silence hung between them for a time, until at last she spoke.

"You doubt me. You see it now, as plain as I have all these years, and you worry that I am not ready for this task. Perhaps you are correct to doubt. Perhaps if Sekhmetara had been chosen instead. Perhaps," she muttered, her voice and face flat not from control but [i]exhaustion[/i]. ”Have I failed him so soon?” she wondered aloud, eyes closed.

Nelchitl had studied her sister once she had finally been ushered into the private confines of the arcanum. But only upon hearing her sister's voice did she realize what she had wrought in meeting with her brother. A piece of her felt vindication as she saw her doubts echoed in her sister’s perfect features, and yet the rest of her ached. Ached at the sight of Daena so dejected, and though her face betrayed little of her mood, Nelchitl could feel the same doubt she held in her own sister echoed by the Angel.

“I doubt much Daena,” she began as she moved to stand perpendicular to the hololith of the slowly spinning Praxia, “You know this. I am but a child on Hi-- [i]your[/i] grand stage. I play at war and chase glory and honors while the rest of you have honor rolls beyond tally to fill the shelves of the most exalted libraries in His domain.” she admitted plainly as leaned her armored form on the hololith display.

“I doubt much.” she repeated, “But this… This duel, this infighting, it sits greater than my simple doubt.” she turned to regard her sister, taking her gaze away from Praxia for the first time since she began talking, “But you already know this.” she stated plainly.

“I have seen it,” Daena replied just as plainly. Though she expected to be overwhelmed at the sensation of finally sharing over a century of grief shared with someone who [i]believed[/i], she found herself numb. “I have seen so many ends for all of us, my sister. You know I have. You doubted them just as you now doubt me. This hate, this jealousy, it eats at the very fabric of our Father’s will. But it is too deep, Nelchitl, too deep to be smoothed over by soft words and coddling diplomats!” she continued, a fire finally coming into her body and voice as she remembered all that she had foreseen.

“It must be [i]bled[/i], lest it fester. Our siblings must know that my judgement is fair, but final. That as they bicker and squabble, they shall always have a final recourse before Legion need fall upon Legion in the name of their sire’s honor. [i]That[/i] is what must never occur. I would have lanced Eiosha in the gut myself if I thought it would prevent such a fate.” Her fire kindled, her blank eyes opened to stare into Nelchitl’s own, the Warmaster filled with conviction anew. “Hatred grows when it remains hidden in the hearts of men. It must be wrenched out early, so that it may die stillborn. But perhaps I was too late. Perhaps [i]he[/i] was too late. Perhaps all that I have seen shall be, and our days will be those of fire and blood.”

Nelchitl nodded her head in slow agreement as her sister spoke, sorrow filling her dark eyes as she listened to her Warmaster.

“Of this I agree that to excise such hatred is necessary… But Daena… In what world was what happened okay? In what universe could such have been allowed by Father? And recorded for all? The pictfeeds and holovids run rampant across the fleets, maybe even the entire Crusade soon.” she paused as she allowed herself a laugh devoid of humor.

“I admit I am the first to reach for a weapon when it comes to disputes but… This was too far, and at your hand, at your order some may even whisper.” she shook her head and brought a hand to her hair as she fiddled before the Warmaster, before her sister.

“I am afraid Daena, I hate to admit such,” she smiled meekly, “‘The Emerald Priestess fears nothing’” she pantomimed, “But I fear what has been set here, what may come of this.” she straightened from the hololith and her eyes seemed to fill fully with sorrow, “Tell me I’m wrong Daena.” she pleaded with her sister, glad that for once she was truly alone with a sibling.

“It was a question of when and where and who,” Daena said in a tired voice, slumping upon her throne. “Not if. Eiosha acted more rashly than any of us should ever do, and were she any other Augor would have been within his rights to cut her down where she stood. But she is [i]not[/i] any other, and her death would’ve provoked the greatest of bloodletting. And you know our brother. He would’ve plotted and schemed and his designs would grow more hideous with each day.”

Her eyes closed again as she considered her sister’s plea, but she could not bring herself to give the answer Nelchitl desired. “I cannot, sister. I cannot tell you that you are wrong to fear when I myself am afraid. If Augor accepts my judgement, and Eiosha her punishment, and part with that understanding, then we will have avoided this doom. But I cannot tell you to lay so much trust upon a mere [i]if[/i].”

“I simply saw no better option left to me,” she admitted, voice finally turning bitter.

Nelchitl’s pleading features turned sour as Daena finished, her gaze casting away from her sister as she scoffed.

“No better way than to allow Augor with weapons meant to fell armies? To allow Eiohsa her magicks? Could you not have forced the weapons? The rules? The means?”

Her accusing gaze came back to her sister as her armored hand gripped the hololith table hard enough to crumple the metal, “You are Warmaster Daena! You are the voice of Father!” she yelled as her anger grew, a hint of jealousy evident as she did, “Yet here you fell to the whims of two of his more errant of children…” she trailed off, a flash of guilt marring her features as she released the table.

“I’m sorry.” she stated softly, though the fire in her chest demanded far more from her.

“Nelchitl,” Daena whispered, finally rising from her throne to rest a hand upon her sister’s shoulder. “You need never apologize to me for speaking the truth of your heart. Such honesty is why you are beloved of Sekhmetara and myself,” she assured her, free hand placing the Emerald Priestess’ armored own back upon the crushed table with a soft smile.

Keeping her gaze away from Daena as she approached, she allowed her sister to do as she wanted as she silently waited for her to retreat back to her throne.

“You are right,” she said sadly, her gaze fixed on the now flickering display of Praxia. “I could have done all of these things and more, but it would not have sufficed. Augor would not consider his damned oath satisfied if I had. He would have tried again, and again, and again, working always within the [i]letter[/i] of his vows in order to undermine its spirit. His convictions, the certainty that he follows aspects of Father’s will that have been left unstated? Excuses to do as he truly wishes.”

“Yet I see those same convictions as what keeps him predictable… It was clear he would take this too far, for the Martian Priesthood’s ways called for it, demanded it even.” she shook her head and turned her eyes back to the flickering hololith.

“Do you think I'm the same as him? Do you think my convictions give me the excuses I need?” she asked quietly as she watched Praxia turn, “I don’t.” she added with a weak smile, “But I don’t think Augor does either. Only the insane fail to see the insanity in their actions.” she felt horror at the idea that she might be equated to Augor, to his twisted Priesthood and his strange rights. But the fear stuck, the idea that perhaps she too may be perceived as misled in her belief cutting deep as she awaited judgement.

Daena looked at Nelchitl with honest confusion upon her face, turning to look her in the eyes. “Of course I don’t. You serve our Father. The Crusade. Mankind. Augor serves the Mechanicum at best, and his own interests at worst. What could possibly make you think that the two of you are the same?”

Nelchitl hesitated at Daena’s confusion. For a moment, she felt guilt, that she had assumed her sister [i]knew[/i]. That she was aware of her own beliefs, like her dear sister Sekhmetara, or her newfound kinship in her brother Wode. But she was wrong. Daena [i]didn’t[/i] know, she was not aware of the faith that burned inside of the Emerald Priestess. Of her devotion to their Father on a level far more intense than simple adoration or respect. 

Nelchitl stepped away, her face turning to stare at anything else in the small confines of the arcanum but the Angel before her as she realized her misstep. Daena was one of her Father’s most trusted. She held the Truth above all. Abhorred the faithful, burned the holy works of more worlds than Nelchitl cared to count, and would see the death of many more. The [i]Angel[/i] was godless.

“Doubt is all.” she answered briskly, unable to even look toward her sister. “But that is unimportant,” she lied.

“Doubt plagues both of us it seems,” Daena whispered, accepting her sister’s words for fact. Perhaps she believed them in truth. Perhaps she simply did not wish to confront the truth. Perhaps. “I had hoped Sekhmetara might alleviate such, but she has been busier than I had hoped,” she half admitted. In truth, she had wanted her sister to invite her aboard, and the lack of notice was beginning to gnaw at her own mind just as much as the spat between Augor and Eiosha. “She has a way of calming things.”

Nelchitl couldn’t help but laugh at Daena’s words, more at  the irony of the situation the Angel found herself in rather than in the woman herself. Here the Angel sought solace and peace in the guidance of Sekhmetara, the very same Sekhmetara that had just recently been destroying one of Nelchitl’s staterooms aboard the [i]Solstice’s End[/i] in an attempt to find her own solace in Angels’ ascension.

“You and her both, sister.” she answered quietly, “Sekhmetara is… torn at your rise. She cares for you dearly of course, but she fears for you all the same.” Nelchitl offered a smile while a flash of violence ran across her eyes as she recalled the recent bout she had shared with the Huntress. 

“We wrecked a room aboard the [i]End[/i] together. Her for you. Me for… well that damned Tartarean brother of ours.” she offered as she diligently studied the riveting in the deck.

Daena winced at the news, her wings closing about her form to create a protective cloak, as if her sister’s fears were a knife. In a sense, they were, the newly christened Warmaster faltering as she joined her sister in examining the construction of the deckplate. “She would have thought of a better solution,” the Angel whispered, voice tinged with self-loathing and doubt. “Sekhmetara would’ve hidden her disdain and stopped herself from treating our brother like a rabid dog. He is so much worse, only now do I see this,” she continued, her own hands now resting on the damaged holo table.

“Nelchitl,” she said after a long pause, now in a louder voice, tinged with the sharp edge of command. “Is there any order from me you would refuse?”

Nelchitl shifted uncomfortably where she stood, her unease at the entire situation unfolding at her feet evident as she squirmed without end. “Our dearest sister would have thought of a [i]different[/i] solution, I can not say it would have been better. I do not have your gifts of prescience afterall.” Nelchitl spoke, her words sounding far more confident than her demeanor betrayed.

With a shift Nelchitl brought her gaze up, her attitude instantly changed as a far simpler question than anything asked so far was posed for her. 

“None.” she replied with a surety of mind so clear that the air about the room seemed to shift from its gloom just as quickly as the Emerald Priestess’s mood. “You are Warmaster. You are his hand in these dark stars. His will is in action with your every step.” She rushed forward to Daena, her hands slipping past the slumped forms of the Angel’s wings and coming to firmly grasp her sister's arms in her hands, “Your every order his creed.” she was speaking with the burning fire in her chest now as she tore one of her hands away from her sister's arm to cup her chin gently. Lifting the Angel’s gaze tenderly up from the deckplate, the Emerald Priestess brought the Angel’s cold eyes to her own burning orbs of faith.

“To deny you would be to deny Him, and that is something I could never live with.” she smiled at her sister, now so close, love that only a true sibling could provide bleeding from her every motion as she spoke, “I could never deny you Daena. My darling sister, my Warmaster.”

A satisfied smile blossomed on Daena’s face in return, but it did not reach her eyes. She brought her own hand up to gently stroke the one Nelchitl was cupping her chin with, her other coming to rest on the Emerald Priestess’s shoulder. “Oh my sister, the truest instrument of his will. You alone were meant for this charge. I see His wisdom now, clearer than even before.”

The Warmaster’s demeanor had changed in turn, the Angel standing taller and prouder than before, her wings raised over the both of them as they held one another. But there was as much threat as tenderness in that embrace, Daena’s mind upon the morbid necessities of their Father’s will. “There may come a time, Nelchitl, when I will require this hand. You will not hesitate, I know,” she said, drawing her sister’s hand off of her chin as she did before pressing a single kiss against it.

“His red right hand,” Daena whispered, voice potent with prophecy.

Nelchitl allowed herself to be moved by her Warmaster, the divinations of the Angel before her ringing like scripture in her mind as she listened. Even without her sister’s gift of prescience she could see the fate awaiting them now as clearly as she imagined her sister saw the strands of the future stretching out before her. She could practically taste victory on her lips as she hung on the Angel’s every word, she could see the triumph of humanity stretch before her as she stood at her Angel’s side before the most flawless being to grace all of time and space. She smiled, an animalistic thing, the promise of violence and savagery stretching across her features as she did.

“By your command Daena, always.” she whispered back to her sister.

“Stay with me for a time, oh sister mine,” Daena murmured while pressing her face against Nelchitl’s neck. “Oh murderer mine,” she added, in a voice so faint even a Primarch had to strain to hear it.