The afternoon light filtering through the medicae ward's small window was gray and hazy—typical for Armageddon—but to Lilith, it looked almost peaceful.

  She sat on her cot, Eve beside her as always, when the door opened to admit three familiar figures.

  Sister Prudence. Sister Mercy. Sister Marian.

  They filed in quietly, their expressions a mixture of concern, relief, and something else Lilith couldn't quite identify.

  Sister Prudence spoke first, her stern voice softer than usual. "May we speak with you, Lilith?"

  Lilith nodded, suddenly nervous. "Of course, Sisters."

  The three women arranged themselves—Sister Marian checking Lilith's pulse and temperature out of habit, Sister Mercy sitting on the edge of the adjacent cot, and Sister Prudence standing with her hands folded, imposing even in stillness.

  Sister Mercy broke the silence. "We wanted to talk to you about... about what Eve told us. And what you told Lord Ha'ken."

  Lilith's stomach clenched. "I—"

  "Peace, child." Sister Mercy raised a gentle hand. "We're not here to judge you. We want to understand."

  Sister Prudence nodded. "Eve told us you were created by a Magos. Experimented upon. Intended as weapons." Her sharp eyes softened almost imperceptibly. "And that you killed everyone aboard that ship when you lost control."

  Lilith's hands clenched in her lap. "I didn't mean to. I didn't—I didn't even know what was happening. It just... happened."

  "We know," Sister Marian said gently, her weathered hand patting Lilith's shoulder. "Eve explained. You were dying. In pain. Your body was reacting to forces you couldn't control."

  Sister Mercy leaned forward. "Lilith, I need you to understand something. What you did—it was terrible. Lives were lost. But you were a victim too. A child pushed beyond her limits, lashing out in terror and agony."

  "But I still killed them," Lilith whispered, tears beginning to well in her right eye. "All those people. They died because of me."

  "They died because a Magos decided to play god with children's lives," Sister Prudence said firmly. "The blame lies with him, not with you."

  Sister Mercy reached out and took Lilith's hand. "You were fighting to survive. Both of you were. And I... I can't imagine the desperation you must have felt. The fear. The pain."

  She squeezed gently.

  "But you survived. You escaped. And you found your way here. That takes strength, Lilith. More strength than most adults possess."

  Lilith stared at her, stunned by the kindness in Sister Mercy's eyes.

  She'd expected judgment. Suspicion. Maybe even horror.

  But this? This gentle understanding?

  They're... kind. They actually care.

  Sister Prudence stepped forward, and Lilith braced herself for harsher words.

  "However," the older woman said, her tone returning to its characteristic sternness, "you must understand something as well."

  Lilith nodded, waiting.

  "If you ever become a danger to the other children—if you lose control again, if the Warp takes hold of you—I will not hesitate to act." Sister Prudence's eyes were hard but not cruel. "My first duty is to protect the innocents under my care. All of them. Including you and Eve. But if I must choose between you and the others..."

  She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.

  "I understand," Lilith said quietly. "If I lose control... you have to stop me. Whatever it takes."

  Sister Prudence nodded, satisfied. "Good. As long as we understand each other."

  She turned and headed for the door. "Rest well, Lilith. You've been through an ordeal."

  And with that, she left, the door closing softly behind her.

  Sister Mercy let out a small breath. "Don't mind her too much. She's strict, but she cares deeply. She just... expresses it differently."

  "I know," Lilith said. And strangely, she did. Sister Prudence's warning hadn't felt like a threat. It had felt like... honesty. Clarity about where everyone stood.

  Sister Mercy stood, brushing off her robes. "I'm so glad you're all right, Lilith. When I saw you burning with that fever, I thought..." She shook her head, then suddenly pulled Lilith into a tight hug. "I'm just glad you're okay."

  Lilith stiffened—she still wasn't used to physical affection from anyone except Eve—but slowly, she relaxed into the embrace.

  "Thank you, Sister," she murmured. "For everything. For... for getting help. For calling the Salamander."

  Sister Mercy pulled back, smiling warmly. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat. You and Eve deserve to live. To be happy. And I'll do everything in my power to make sure you have that chance."

  She glanced toward the door. "I should go. I have... duties to attend to. And some consequences to face for my little nighttime adventure."

  Lilith's eyes widened. "Consequences?"

  "Nothing I can't handle." Sister Mercy waved it off with a gentle smile. "Rules exist for a reason. If I break them, even for good cause, there must be acknowledgment of that. It's how order is maintained."

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  She's going to be punished for helping me? Wait, is Sister Mercy the reason why that Salamander…

  Lilith realized with a pang of guilt.

  For leaving the orphanage without permission. For risking herself.

  "Sister, I'm so sorry—"

  "Don't be." Sister Mercy's smile never wavered. "Some rules are worth breaking. And you were worth every risk."

  She patted Lilith's head gently, gave Eve a warm look, and left the medicae ward.

  That left only Sister Marian.

  The elderly nun finished her examination—pulse steady, temperature normal, breathing clear—and made some notes on her data-slate.

  Lilith felt awkward. She didn't know Sister Marian as well as the others. The old woman was always professional, efficient, kind in her own quiet way, but also... distant.

  "You're healing well," Sister Marian said without looking up. "Most people would be bedridden for weeks after a fever like that."

  "Thank you, Sister."

  Sister Marian set down her slate and looked at Lilith directly, her aged eyes surprisingly sharp.

  "What matters now," she said slowly, "is what you choose to be. Not what you were created to be. Not what that Magos intended. But what you decide."

  Lilith blinked. "I... I don't understand."

  "You were made to be a weapon," Sister Marian said. "But you are not a weapon. You are a person. A child. With thoughts, feelings, choices."

  She gestured at Eve, who sat quietly beside Lilith.

  "Both of you are. Whatever your origins, whatever modifications were forced upon you—those don't define who you are. Your actions do. Your choices do."

  Sister Marian's expression softened into something almost grandmotherly.

  "So choose to be good, Lilith. Choose to be kind. Choose to protect those you love and help those who need it. That's all any of us can do in this dark universe."

  Lilith felt her throat tighten with emotion. "I'll try, Sister. I promise."

  "That's all I ask." Sister Marian stood, gathering her things. "Rest now. You've earned it."

  She left, and the medicae ward fell into quiet.

  Lilith and Eve sat together in the fading afternoon light, holding hands, saying nothing.

  But somehow, the silence felt warm.

  Lilith rested for one full day.

  She slept. She ate. She let her body finish healing.

  Sister Marian checked on her regularly, and each time pronounced her recovery "remarkable" and "ahead of schedule."

  Eve never left her side except for brief moments to use the washing room or fetch food.

  By the next morning, Lilith felt strong enough to leave the medicae ward.

  She stood on shaky legs, holding Eve's hand for balance, and took her first steps back into the orphanage proper.

  And sure enough, the moment Lilith entered the common room, Lysander came bounding over with his characteristic enthusiasm.

  "Lilith! Eve! You're okay!" He practically vibrated with excitement. "I was so worried! Sister Mercy said you had a really bad fever and I thought maybe you were gonna—but you're fine now! That's great!"

  "Thanks, Lysander," Lilith managed, trying not to be overwhelmed by his energy.

  "And did you hear?!" He lowered his voice to what he probably thought was a whisper but was still quite loud. "There was a Salamander here! An actual Salamander Space Marine! In the orphanage! Can you believe it?!"

  Lilith exchanged a glance with Eve. "Really? Wow."

  "I KNOW, right?! I didn't get to see him, but some of the older kids did and they said he was HUGE and his armor was green and he had a flamer and his eyes glowed red just like—" He stopped, looking at Lilith and Eve's eyes. "Just like yours! Maybe that's why he came! Maybe he sensed you were like him somehow!"

  If only you knew how close to the truth you are, Lilith thought.

  "Maybe," she said aloud. "That would be pretty cool."

  Lysander grinned. "I'm just glad you're okay. Both of you. You're my friends, and I don't wanna lose my friends."

  Something warm settled in Lilith's chest. "Thanks, Lysander. That means a lot."

  He beamed at her, then scampered off to tell someone else about the Space Marine sighting, his excitement uncontainable.

  Eve tugged on Lilith's hand. "He's... nice."

  "Yeah," Lilith agreed. "He is."

  The days passed.

  Routines resumed. Morning prayers. Breakfast. Education. Chores. Free time. Evening prayers. Dinner. Sleep.

  But something was different.

  Lilith noticed it during morning prayers on the third day after leaving the medicae ward.

  Sister Prudence was leading the liturgy, her stern voice reciting the Prayer of Devotion.

  And Lilith... knew it.

  Not just knew it. She remembered it. Every word. Every phrase. Perfectly.

  She hadn't even tried to memorize it. It was just... there. In her head. Clear as crystal.

  What...

  During education, the tech-priest droned on about Imperial history—the Horus Heresy, the betrayal of the Warmaster, the Siege of Terra.

  Lilith absorbed every word. Retained every detail. Could recall it with perfect clarity even hours later.

  When she taught Eve during free time, the lessons flowed effortlessly. Words came easily. Concepts clicked into place. Teaching methods that would have taken her days to figure out before now seemed obvious.

  "Your learning speed has increased significantly," the tech-priest noted during one session, his mechanical voice tinged with curiosity. "Enhanced cognitive function. Interesting."

  Lilith just nodded, not sure what to say.

  That night, lying in bed beside Eve, she stared at the ceiling and tried to make sense of it.

  My mind is... clearer. Sharper. Like fog has been lifted.

  She thought back to the medical records she'd read about herself.

  Enhanced learning and memory capacity. That's what it said. But I never felt it before. I struggled to memorize prayers. Had trouble focusing. Couldn't organize my thoughts properly.

  So why now? What changed?

  And then it hit her.

  The Warp.

  When she'd opened that door aboard the ship—when she'd made contact with the Immaterium—it had tainted her. Corrupted her mind. Not obviously. Not dramatically. But enough to cloud her thoughts, and make everything harder than it should have been.

  And the golden flames...

  Naic.

  He'd said he would give her "something else" instead of power.

  He cleansed me. Burned away the Warp's taint. Left my mind clear.

  The realization was both terrifying and liberating.

  She tested it, thinking back through everything she'd learned in the past weeks.

  Every prayer. Every lesson. Every conversation.

  All of it was there. Perfectly preserved. Perfectly accessible.

  Enhanced learning and memory capacity. It was always part of me. I just couldn't access it fully until now.

  Lilith let out a long, slow breath.

  Thank you, Naic. Whatever you are, wherever you are... thank you.

  She wouldn't see him again. He'd said as much. Their encounter in the white void had been a one-time thing.

  But his gift remained.

  And for the first time since waking up in this nightmare universe, Lilith felt like she had an actual advantage.

  Not power. Not super strength or psychic abilities.

  Just... clarity. Sharpness. The ability to think, learn, and remember without the fog of Warp corruption dragging her down.

  Maybe I can actually survive this. Maybe I can actually protect Eve and figure out how to navigate this world.

  She turned her head to look at her twin.

  Eve was already asleep, her face peaceful in the dim light, her short black hair slightly mussed.

  For the first time, Lilith didn't immediately spiral into survival calculations.

  She didn't think about threats, or plans, or worst-case scenarios.

  She just looked at Eve and thought: We look so much alike. Twins really do share features.

  Eve's face was almost identical to hers—same bone structure, same delicate features, same pale skin.

  The only real differences were their hair length and their eyes.

  She's adorable, Lilith thought with a small smile. Even when she's being serious and intense, there's something... endearing about her.

  It was a strange thought. Almost normal. The kind of thing a big sister might think about a younger sibling.

  Not survival strategies. Not tactical assessments.

  Just... affection.

  Lilith settled into her pillow, her right eye closing, her body finally, truly relaxing.

  Maybe I can afford to rest. Just for a little while. Maybe we're okay.

  One percent survival odds. But it's better than zero.

  And right now, lying here with Eve safe beside me...

  That's enough.

  She drifted off to sleep—peaceful, dreamless, and for the first time in what felt like forever, not afraid.