The eyes around Yoon, human they supposedly were, managed to be colder than the void pits of xenos. All around her, zephyrim in gold habits stopped their movement and their whispers to stare at the seraphim in yellow that scurried in their sanctum. The other elites followed suit: the almonesses and chirurgeon-general; the nunciates of the fabulous and dialogus; the cardinals and archbishops leading the ecclesiarchy; representatives from the planetary assembly. The cherubim who flitted above in the rafters seemed to be fascinated by the new visitor. Skulls of martyrs long passed lined the walls and seemed to focus all their empty sockets on her. The gaze of Saint Arabella removed from her flaming sword to pass judgment. Alicia, Katherine, Silvana, Lucia, and Mina looked down on her. The Emperor and his custodians watched over her. The only ones who paid her no heed were the choristers, servitors, and aquila-plated doors.
They said she was found in the Thunderhawk, both she and it in such pristine condition that they were only missing the gift wrap.
Hae Nyeo held Yoon’s hand as if she were guiding a child through a forest. She walked slowly enough for Yoon to absorb the environment, its splendor and contours, but kept a firm grip and pace. Hae-noona was mistress of novitiates, but also a well-respected zephyrim who, despite humility and willing impoverishment, had her name spoken in renown second only to saints and canonesses. It was this reputation that allowed her to shepherd Yoon up the mountain and through the forest.
Suddenly, Hae-noona let go, and Yoon felt like she was going to fall off a cliff without the guardrail to hold on to. Hae-noona knelt and held her chaplet over her heart. The other zephyrim and tippy-top spirites knelt in place. Some of them had spilled scalding tea on themselves yet held an unflinching aquila. The choristers were shaking, and the cherubs cheered. The hymnals were no longer coming from all around; Yoon felt the music inside her skull, and her chest was set ablaze. A suit of armor, spilling out fire from its visor, marched past.
Kim Min-Ji, the Living Saint.
When the music stopped, everyone rose and carried on as they were.
They finally arrived at the canoness’ office. Awaiting behind the desk were three: Palatine Lee Hee-jin, Legatine Shim Eun-jin, both in ivory white; Canoness Bae Doona, in rhodonite pink. Their faces, scarred by age as much as battle, were stern as statues as Yoon and Hae took their seats. On the desk was a big, open book: the Lectitio Divinitatus.
“By now I have written such stories a thousand times,” began Bae-eonni without looking down, “it was disheartening, yes, to see humans hunted, preyed upon, enslaved; yet in meeting them, we saw endurance; in saving them, we found gratefulness; in guiding them, we found hope, in them, in ourselves, in the dream of mankind. I tell you the story of every world we found so that I may repeat this every time: for all the xenos may try to snuff it out, human life is the kindling of an eternal flame. Nurtured by the Emperor, yes, but as we are guided by Him, His flame is stoked by all of us into a conflagration that brings light beyond the stars.’
— Salvation 23:17, among others. Salvations hold many tales of xenos encountered and slain, though their predations and depravities meld together. Always with the kidnapping, and enslaving, and eating, and mutating. I suppose the finer nuances were irrelevant to the arrival of the great crusade; still, I hope hearing your testimony gives us some idea as to what kind of xeno we face.”
All eyes were on Yoon now. For the first time, they felt weighty. Not the abbesses, not the spirite princesses, not the alien audiences, it was the eyes of Bae-eonni that made the words catch in Yoon’s throat like a lump and turn clear memories into fogged remembrances. Lee-eonni pulled out a bowl from underneath the desk and came to Yoon’s side: yeots, extra sticky taffy to help catch the memories before they escape. Yoon took out a handful and chewed on one as she collected herself.
“They were bipedal,” started Yoon, “two legs, two arms, a head, no weird appendages, except for, well they can graft extra appendages on but that’s through surgery. Otherwise, they were pale as corpses with eyes black as night,” they waited for her to finish another piece of taffy, “they showed me their weapons, most designed to maime and incapacitate, but still capable before getting into the serious killers: poisoned crystal shavings next to cannons of dark light next to spears, and whips, and knives, and cleavers. They use knock-out gas for people they want to take captive as slaves. They appear from nowhere, undetectable by long-range augurs, on hoverboards and boats using navigation beyond reality. She said she comes from a lightless city—”
“She?” asked Shim-eonni, and Yoon's sentences jammed up. Yoon swallowed another piece of taffy.
“She called herself Abominatrix. She says she comes from a xenos subgroup that attacks and desecrates the faithful, and that they have fought other orders before. Across centuries for her alone, millennia for her cult. She had a helm sewn with the still functioning eyeballs of her captives so that they could watch her spread murder and desecration. I…” her lip quivered, “I recognized the eye of the dialogus. Another was wearing the necklace belonging to one of the kids.”
“So they sought us out. Did she give a timetable for this invasion?”
“It’s not an invasion. They’re here… for sport. For game. For entertainment. They are patrons out on a safari.”
“A vacation then? I suppose that explains why our augur arrays are still in orbit. They do not seek to topple us.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Just bleed us, and with everything else, it may be enough,” said Lee-eonni, “the last thing we needed were more problems. Problems that all began with you.”
Yoon’s eyes darted to every woman around her. Whatever composure she built up crumbled away.
“Me?”
“Mutants, daemons, xenos, all of them arrived alongside you. Some would say you are a bad omen, that the Emperor turns away from us because of you. Some would say it is no longer enough to be rid of you by expulsion, but that we must expunge your taint to redeem ourselves.”
Are ‘some’ saying that, or are you saying that? Is what Yoon wanted to say, but it fell into the dark pit of her stomach. If their looks did not kill her outright, then that golden inferno pistol would melt her down where she sat. If she ran out of this room, she would be skewered by dozens upon dozens of swords to the repentant hymnals of dozens upon dozens of cybernetic children.
“Or,” started Hae-noona. She let the word hang in the air as all attention turned to her. “Or,” she repeated, “she has been sent on the eve of a time of great need. Must the rumor mill always be so negative and impatient? By the throne, Sanguinius could descend on angelic wings, and we would burn him for mutation.”
“The mill spins regardless,” returned Shim-eonni, “she must be aware of it if she is to shake off the accusations.”
“And how do I do that?” asked Yoon with newfound temerity, “I passed every trial I could, and it’s never enough.”
“Those trials,” finally spoke Bae-eonni, “are under the judgment of those most hostile to you. The noble houses squabble, but they are united in insularity. They will not admit a new factor if they can help it. It is not enough to accomplish what is asked of you and rely on the iron maiden that is obscurity for protection; you must sculpt new achievements that are undeniably your own to make your name too prominent to unite against.”
“Oh, is that all? Mayhaps I go kill the Supreme Leader, then I get my own badge?”
“Something of the sort. I hear confession and give counsel, no more, no less. Though they try to turn it against you, your name is on the xenos report read by every member of the planetary assembly. You are the only source of knowledge regarding xenos we have. I advise you exploit that position to the fullest while you can. It sounds like we’ll be seeing more from them.
For now, you will remain in the sanctum under the supervision of Hae Nyeo. The genetors will inspect you for any genetic manipulation that may have been conducted on you. Take the time to catalogue your memories, as detailed as you can.”
“I… yes, my canoness. Thank you for hearing me, I will… heed your words.”
“That is all I ask. You are dismissed, but we must speak with Hae Nyeo.”
Yoon stood from her chair, signed over her heart, tentatively hovered her hand over the taffy bowl to see if anyone would say anything, stuffed her pockets with taddy, went to the door, signed again, and bowed, then finally left. She closed the door, leaned her back against it, then slid down as she let out her breath. Back in the underhive, reputation was built up with raucous displays and boasts; every slight and disrespect had to be answered with swift brutality. Seems the spires would be no different, if only more headache-inducing, the way they hid knives behind jeobeons.
“You,” the sound of the vox grille startled Yoon. Looming over was a zephyrim who replaced her mouth with iron, “You are the survivor.”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“I am Whang Ae-cha.”
“...oh.”
“Youn Dai was your superior. I find it strange, then, that only you returned. I wondered why?”
The question was not rhetorical. The mechanical voice and mannerisms gave no hint of her inclination, yet Yoon could make an educated guess.
“The xenos sent me back to deliver their message.”
“They spirit away so many without a trace, yet leave evidence for us to find?”
“They want us to know that they are here. They want us to know what they are doing. They want us to know that they are in control and can’t be stopped. They want us to be afraid.”
Whang-noona stared down at her without response. It was as if she were peering into Yoon’s soul to scry for the truth when words cannot be trusted. Yoon’s eyes could no longer meet Whang’s, instead darting around as she broke out into sweat and took a big gulp. Finally, Hae-noona opened the door.
“Is there a problem?” asked Hae Nyeo. Whang-noona looked to Hae with the same wordless glare for a moment.
“I happened to be passing by.”
Whang looked straight ahead and continued on her way. Hae Nyeo reached out a hand to lift Yoon to her feet. She allowed Yoon to squeeze her hand as hard as Yoon wanted, then led Yoon to her room.
The door opened to a servo-skull and servitor both waiting behind it for their mistress. Suwon scanned Yoon up and down, then rubbed its temple on her leg. The servitor waddled over to the table to proudly present dinner: steamed rice, boiled chicken, broccoli, and water. The servitor pulled out chairs for both its mistresses to take their seats. They ate their dry, plain, flavorless, and efficient meal for a silent moment.
“So what really happened?” said Hae Nyeo, more as a statement than a question. When she spoke like that, the truth was less relevant than the omission and the lie that was to be corrected.
“The xenos had two of us fight to the death for their entertainment: me and Whang Youn Dai.”
“ ‘Whang Youn Dai and I’ “ corrected Hae-noona, “and you two went along with it.”
“I had no choice! We were in the heart of the xenos bastion, probably their flagship. They traveled across dimensions, and even their doors flickered in and out of reality. We had no way to do anything to them.”
“Is that all?” Yoon could not hold out against that look in Hae’s eyes, calm and stern as Arabella’s gaze, as if Hae were the statue come to life.
“Whang was trying to get me killed before we met the aliens, before I was even a battle sister. I… well, I won’t miss her.”
“Yet you have made an enemy nonetheless. Now we know for certain.”
“We?” Hae Nyeo looked to Suwon, who had been watching intently the whole while.
“None that you have not already given confession to, nor shall it be heard by any other.”
“Then I ‘confess’ that all four of you are witches,” pouted Yoon.
“Finish your vegetables.”
Which antagonist do you like the most/want to see more of?
