Two weeks had passed since Lilith and Eve first arrived at Saint Celestine Orphanage.

  The routine had become familiar—almost comfortable, in a strange way. Wake at dawn. Wash. Prayers. Breakfast. Education. Chores. Lunch. More education. More chores. Free time. Evening prayers. Dinner. Sleep.

  Repeat.

  Every day the same, blending together into a gray monotony that was somehow reassuring in its predictability.

  Lilith had learned a great deal in those two weeks. How to recite the basic prayers without stumbling. How to navigate the orphanage's hierarchy of nuns and older children. How to avoid drawing attention while still appearing cooperative.

  And she'd learned where they were.

  Armageddon.

  The name had come up during one of the tech-priest's droning history lessons. "The hive world of Armageddon, sacred to the Cult Mechanicus, home to countless manufactorums and blessed by the presence of Titan Legions..."

  Lilith had felt her stomach drop when she heard it.

  Armageddon. Of all the planets in the entire galaxy, we had to crash on Armageddon.

  She knew that name. Everyone who knew even surface-level 40k lore knew Armageddon.

  The site of multiple massive wars. Ork invasions. Chaos incursions. A world perpetually on the brink of destruction, saved only by the constant intervention of Space Marines and the Imperial Guard.

  We're on a death world. A literal war-torn death world.

  But then again... what was she supposed to do with that information?

  It wasn't like knowing the planet's name changed anything. They were still trapped here. Still being watched by the Inquisition. Still trying to survive day by day.

  Still much better than being somewhere.

  She'd let out a long sigh when that realization hit her, and Eve had squeezed her hand in silent question.

  "Nothing," Lilith had murmured. "Just thinking."

  The afternoon was winding down toward free time when the commotion started.

  Lilith and Eve were in the common room, Eve practicing her writing while Lilith reviewed prayers she still needed to memorize, when the sound of heavy boots echoed through the halls.

  The Steel Legion.

  Lilith looked up, her right eye tracking toward the entrance as a squad of soldiers in their distinctive greatcoats and rebreather masks entered, escorting a group of children.

  New arrivals.

  There were perhaps a dozen of them—ranging from very young to maybe ten or eleven years old. They looked shell-shocked, dirty, some bearing visible injuries. Their clothes were torn and stained, and several were crying quietly.

  Refugees, Lilith realized. Probably from another part of the hive. Maybe an Ork attack? Or gang violence?

  Sister Mercy rushed forward to greet them, her expression shifting immediately into maternal concern. "Oh, you poor dears. Come, come. Let's get you cleaned up and fed."

  The other orphans gathered to stare, whispering among themselves.

  Lilith felt Eve press closer to her side, red eyes fixed on the newcomers with wary intensity.

  "It's okay," Lilith murmured. "Just new kids. Like we were, two weeks ago."

  Eve didn't relax, but she nodded slightly.

  They watched in silence as Sister Mercy and several other nuns herded the new children toward the washing rooms, the Steel Legion soldiers departing with crisp salutes.

  More mouths to feed. More bodies crammed into already-crowded dormitories.

  Lilith turned back to her prayers, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in her chest.

  New faces meant new dynamics. New attention. New potential threats.

  Just keep your head down, she told herself. Stay invisible. Survive.

  The next morning began like any other.

  Bell at dawn. Lilith and Eve rolled out of their shared bed—they'd long since stopped pretending to use separate ones—and made their way to the washing stations.

  The stone basins were crowded with children splashing water on their faces, brushing teeth with frayed brushes, trying to wake up enough to function.

  Lilith guided Eve to an empty basin and they began their morning ablutions.

  That's when Eve went still.

  Her red eyes fixed on something over Lilith's shoulder, her posture shifting subtly into something more alert.

  "What?" Lilith asked quietly, not turning around yet.

  "Someone," Eve said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Following."

  Lilith's stomach clenched. Already? The Inquisitor's operatives?

  "Who?" she asked, keeping her tone casual.

  "Boy," Eve said simply.

  A boy?

  Lilith turned around, trying to look casual, and immediately spotted him.

  One of the new arrivals from yesterday—a scrawny kid maybe six years old with messy brown hair and wide, nervous eyes. He was standing near the doorway, partially hidden behind a water barrel, clearly trying to watch them without being noticed.

  It was possibly the worst attempt at stealth Lilith had ever seen.

  The moment their eyes met, the boy flinched and tried to duck further behind the barrel, which only made him more obvious.

  Lilith sighed.

  Well, might as well deal with this now.

  "Stay here," she told Eve, then walked over to the boy.

  He looked genuinely startled when she approached, his eyes going even wider.

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  "Um," Lilith said, keeping her voice gentle. "Can I help you with something?"

  The boy opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. His face was turning red.

  "I—uh—you—I mean—" He was stuttering badly, clearly nervous.

  Lilith waited patiently.

  Finally, the words came out in a rush: "AreyourelatedtotheSalamanders?"

  Lilith blinked. "What?"

  The boy took a breath and tried again, slower this time. "Are you... are you related to the Salamanders? You know, the Space Marines?"

  Salamanders? What?

  Lilith glanced back at Eve, who had moved closer, curious about the interaction. Eve tilted her head, clearly as confused as Lilith was.

  "What made you think that?" Lilith asked carefully.

  The boy pointed at their faces. "Your eyes! They're red! Like the Salamanders! I thought maybe you were... I don't know, related somehow? Or blessed by them?"

  Oh.

  Lilith felt a wave of relief mixed with amusement. That's what this is about. He saw our eyes and made an assumption.

  But... did Salamanders have red eyes? She tried to remember. Her knowledge of 40k was surface-level at best, absorbed through memes and wiki binges at three in the morning. She knew Salamanders were good guys—relatively speaking—one of the more humanitarian Space Marine chapters. They had dark skin, she thought. And... red eyes? Maybe?

  I need to check that in the library later.

  She let out a small sigh. "We don't know."

  The boy's expression fell. "You don't?"

  "We don't remember anything about our past," Lilith said, falling back on the amnesia excuse that had served her so well. "We woke up in a crashed pod with no memories. So even if we were related to... anyone... we wouldn't know."

  Always stick to the story. Amnesia explains everything.

  The boy looked disappointed but also fascinated. "Oh. That's... that's really sad. I'm sorry."

  "It's okay." Lilith shifted the subject. "What's your name? I’m… Lilith and this is Eve"

  Lilith still hesitates to call herself with that name but whatever works for her anyway.

  The boy's expression brightened immediately. "I'm Lysander! I just got here yesterday with the other refugees from Hive Secundus!"

  His enthusiasm was almost infectious.

  "I saw a Salamander once!" he continued, the words tumbling out. "A real one! When we were being rescued from the Orks! He was huge—like, taller than three men stacked on top of each other! And he had this giant flamer, and he burned all the Orks, and his armor was green and had fire on it, and—"

  He kept talking, gesturing wildly, clearly reliving the memory with excitement and awe.

  Lilith listened, though she was mentally debating how much she could trust a six-year-old's recollection. Kids exaggerated. Kids misremembered. And Space Marines, while certainly impressive, probably weren't quite as superhuman as traumatized children made them out to be.

  Though in 40k, they might actually be that impressive. I should research this properly.

  "That sounds amazing," she said when he finally paused for breath. "But look, it's almost time for morning chores. You're new, so you probably don't know the routine yet, right?"

  Lysander shook his head.

  "Okay, well, after breakfast we have chores. You'll be assigned something—probably cleaning or kitchen work. Just do what the sisters tell you and you'll be fine."

  "Cleaning," Eve added quietly from behind Lilith.

  Lilith couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, cleaning. Eve here finds it more challenging than learning to read."

  Eve's expression didn't change, but there was the faintest hint of indignation in her eyes.

  Lysander grinned. "I'm good at cleaning! My mom made me clean all the time before... before the Orks came."

  His smile faltered slightly at the memory.

  Lilith felt a pang of sympathy. Right. Refugee. He probably lost his family.

  "Well," she said gently, "if you have questions about anything—the schedule, the rules, whatever—you can ask Sister Mercy. She's really helpful."

  "Kind," Eve added, the single word carrying more weight than it should have.

  Lilith smiled slightly. "Yeah. She's kind."

  Lysander nodded enthusiastically. "Okay! Thanks!"

  He scampered off, clearly feeling better about his new situation.

  Lilith watched him go, then turned back to Eve. "Well. That was interesting."

  Eve blinked at her. "Salamanders?"

  "That and the fact that someone actually approached us. We'll look that up in the library later."

  The day proceeded as normal.

  Prayers. Breakfast—the same gray slop as always. Education—more droning lectures about Imperial history and basic literacy.

  Lysander kept glancing over at Lilith and Eve from across the classroom, clearly wanting to talk more but not quite brave enough to interrupt the lessons.

  During chores, they were assigned to kitchen work—peeling vegetables (or whatever the gray, vaguely vegetable-shaped things were) and scrubbing pots.

  Eve had gotten better at controlling her strength, but she still occasionally gripped things too hard, leaving finger-shaped dents in metal.

  Lilith had to subtly redirect attention whenever it happened. "Oh, that pot was already damaged. See? It's old."

  Lunch. More prayers. More education.

  And finally, blessedly, free time.

  Lilith and Eve were just heading toward the library—a small, dusty room filled with ancient books and data-slates containing Imperial scripture, historical records, and basic educational texts—when Lysander appeared.

  "Lilith!" he called, jogging over.

  Lilith stopped. "Hey, Lysander. What's up?"

  "Sister Mercy wants to see you," he said. "She asked me to find you. She's in her office."

  Lilith felt her stomach clench.

  Sister Mercy wants to see me. Alone. Why?

  A dozen possibilities ran through her mind, none of them good.

  Did she figure something out? Did the Inquisitor's operatives report something? Did I make a mistake?

  But she kept her expression neutral. "Okay. Thanks for letting me know."

  She turned to Eve, who was already looking anxious at the prospect of separation.

  Lilith looked and looks at Eve’s then placed her hands on her shoulders.

  "Be a good girl, okay? I'll be back soon. Just go to the library and practice your reading like we planned."

  Eve's red eyes searched Lilith's face, clearly worried.

  "Promise," Lilith added, giving her a small smile. "I'll come back. I always do."

  Eve hesitated, then nodded slowly.

  Lilith patted her head gently—a gesture that had become habit over the past two weeks—then stood and headed toward Sister Mercy's office carefully as she still can’t get used to losing her depth perception.

  She could feel Eve's eyes on her back the entire way down the hall.

  Eve stood in the corridor for a moment after Lilith disappeared around the corner.

  The anxiety was there—it always was when they were separated—but it was duller now. Manageable.

  Lilith always came back. She'd proven that over and over.

  Trust.

  Eve thought, though the concept she learned was still strange and new.

  I trust her.

  She turned and started walking toward the library alone.

  "Wait!"

  Eve stopped and looked back.

  Lysander was jogging after her, looking uncertain but determined.

  "Can I... can I come with you?" he asked. "I mean, if that's okay? I've never been to the library here, and I thought maybe—"

  He trailed off, looking nervous.

  Eve studied him for a long moment.

  He was small. Harmless. No threat.

  And Lilith had said he was okay to talk to.

  She nodded once.

  Lysander's face lit up. "Really? Thanks!"

  They walked together toward the library in silence—well, Lysander tried to fill the silence with chatter about the hive he'd come from, the Ork attack, the rescue, but Eve didn't respond much beyond occasional nods.

  She was still learning how to navigate conversations.

  But having someone else around made the absence of Lilith a little more bearable.

  Meanwhile, Lilith knocked on Sister Mercy's office door, her heart pounding.

  "Come in," came the gentle voice from within.

  Lilith pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  Sister Mercy sat behind a simple wooden desk, her expression warm and welcoming as always.

  "Lilith, dear. Thank you for coming. Please, sit."

  Lilith made her way into the chair and sat across from the desk, her hands folded in her lap, trying to look calm and innocent.

  Just a normal five-year-old. Nothing suspicious here.

  Sister Mercy smiled. "I wanted to talk to you about how you're adjusting. It's been two weeks now. How are you feeling?"

  "I'm... fine, Sister," Lilith said carefully. "Thank you for asking."

  "And Eve? Is she settling in well?"

  "Yes, Sister. She's learning a lot. She's very smart."

  "She is indeed." Sister Mercy leaned back in her chair, her gaze never leaving Lilith's face. "You've been teaching her, haven't you? Reading, writing, social behaviors. You're very patient with her."

  "She's my sister," Lilith said simply. "I want to help her."

  "That's very sweet."

  There was a pause.

  Then Sister Mercy asked, very gently, "Lilith... do you really not remember anything? About where you came from? Who you were before the crash?"

  Lilith's blood ran cold.

  She's testing me. Trying to see if I'll crack.

  She forced herself to meet Sister Mercy's eyes and shook her head. "No, Sister. I wish I did. But it's all... blank."

  Sister Mercy watched her for a long moment.

  Then she smiled again—warm, kind, but somehow sad.

  "All right, dear. That's all I wanted to know. You may go."

  Lilith stood quickly, relief flooding through her. "Thank you, Sister."

  She was almost to the door when Sister Mercy spoke again.

  "Lilith?"

  She stopped, hand on the doorknob.

  "If you ever do remember something—anything at all—you can tell me. I'm here to help you. Always."

  Lilith swallowed hard. "Yes, Sister. Thank you."

  She slipped out of the office and closed the door behind her, her heart racing.

  She knows. Maybe. But she doesn't have proof, but she knows something is wrong or maybe she is just concerned.

  She leaned against the wall for a moment, taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.

  Just keep lying. Keep the story straight. Don't give her anything she can use.

  Finally, she pushed off the wall and headed toward the library as a thought suddenly came to her.

  Salamanders… I really need to look that up.

  She then runs off to the library with an idea forming on her mind.