The sizzling singularity spat out the Triumvirate of Canonesses with the most un-righteous fury. Marika came out with a broken arm, Roxanne came out with a concussion and Titania… The third Canoness had taken the brunt of the warpstorm, cracking her armour. Her jump pack was also blown clean off and in its place – two
autumnal wings sprouted. Was she an angel of His light? Or an Angel of corruption and Chaos?

Either way, they had arrived on Nyx.

They explored their immediate area, discovering sights and landscapes behind their expertise. It was a full day before the damaged Drop Church located them. It was filled with injured sisters of battle, but was secure enough to recuperate in.

Through the holy chants of Imperium justice and His light, a feud broiled. The three Canonesses were in a stand-off around the altar, the air between them close to bursting into flames. “Out with it! Be you daemon, heretic or saint? I would have the truth, Sister Titania!”

Marika shouted, overshadowed by the crimson wings Titania had sprouted hours previously. “The truth here, dearest sister Marika, is that we are cut off from His light and it is clear that something is allowing us to take matters into our own hands. I may not be as perfect a commander as you, but you must abide by the Order of the Triumvirate. Always three there must be to bring balance, to ensure all opinions are accounted for in battle” Titania shouted back. “It’s a wonder the Order didn’t collapse whilst I was absconded.”

Marika took a step forward, “We managed, and there is a difference between opinions and a clear mark of warp-tainted heresy. You’re lucky the Ordo Hereticus is not here, if they-”

“Sisters,” Roxanne interrupted. “Until the truth reveals itself, we must be united. We must set an example for the sisters of our Order. Stop this.”

Titania scoffed, “Coming here was a mistake. I’ll return soon if you wish to discuss this further.”

“Titania!” Roxanne shouted to no avail. Canoness Titania had taken off, without the use of a jump pack, leaving an iridescent feather to fall onto the altar. Roxanne lifted the feather and said, “there are dark tidings on the horizon, Sister Marika. We have attained enough blackstone for the Inquisitor to justify our presence. All we need do now is locate the Tears of the Emperor, somewhere here on Nyx.”

“Saint Potentia Jeanne is close to finding it. Although I have my concerns,” Marika added. “Faith and failure do not run parallel.”

Roxanne placed her hand warmly on her shoulder. “Have faith, Sister. Have hope. Most of all, have your blade rammed gracefully into thy enemy. Trust me, it helps.”

Canoness Titania scouted the horizon and found a ruin in which to find solitude. “Guide me,” she whispered into the inky sky. “Show me a sign of my path.”

It was not His Holiness who answered, but death itself: Titania peeked through the shattered window and saw the immediate threat. Tyranids. Their markings labelling them as Splinter Fleet Tenebrus. The ruins
split in half. “Very well. Into the valley of death we emerge,” Titania uttered to herself.

The battle was savage. Many faithful devotees of the Order of the Triumvirate were martyred. Veterans of the convent, slaughtered without mercy by the Tyranids. However, a rising saint potentia fulfilled her trial of purity.

The three canonesses reunited post-battle, covered in a horrid mix of green and red blood.
“Sister Titania,” Marika acknowledged.

Titania did a faux-courtsey. “Sister Marika, Roxanne.”

Canoness Roxanne let her Holy Eviscterator clank to the ground and she drew them both into a warm embrace. “Sisters – we’re all alive. May that be a sign we are pure.”

“Yes, even in the face of death, you stood your ground,” Marika said to Titania. “Those who stand unflinching against the horrors of the galaxy inspire others to achieve feats of divine heroism. You may not have my trust, but you have my respect. It is a miracle you were not granted death out there today.”

“Heroism is not duty,” Titania smirked. “But it is appreciated. In death there is glory, and my time has yet to come. When it does, it will be doing deeds unwritten.”

“I for one, am glad we stand together once more,” Roxanne added, raising a flask of whisky from her ammo belt. “Until we are Martyred in Action.”

“Until we are MIA,” they chanted in unison.