by Ben Counter
furnaces of the Inquisition.
It would live on among the Sisters of Battle, too. It was not
Aescarion’s place to judge the right or wrong of what Sarpedon had
stood for – but it would not die when she could keep it alive. Even if
only as a warning, the cautionary tale of Daenyathos who pulled
puppet strings that almost threw the Imperium into a new age of
darkness, she would remember.
She turned away from the inscriptions and walked back towards the
apothecarion, still unsteady. At Saturn, in the Inquisitorial dockyards
of Iapetus, she could try to put her thoughts in order and decide how
the story of Soul Drinkers should be passed on so it would remain
intact among the currents of the future. But there were wounds that
needed to heal first. She would decide that another day.
The masons continued their inscribing as Aescarion walked away,
carving the story of the Soul Drinkers into the stone among the lists of
the dead.
