The Benediction of the Fallen Fury (An Original WH40K Fiction)

[Rakashua]

For your enjoyment and potentially the wrenching of your hearts, here follows the story of the last days of Sister Frenzara, Sister of Battle, Order of the Bloody Rose, Adepta Sororitas, Red Fury.

The story will be told in 7 parts, with ODD numbered parts being STORY and EVEN numbered parts being LORE. Each STORY part is told from the first person perspective of a different character.

As a Sister of the Order of the Bloody Rose, it is essential to remember that the Red Furies are both a symbol of our highest devotion and a warning of the cost of such fervor. Their path is one of isolation, sacrifice, and the near-complete subsumption of their identity into the Emperor's service. Their presence among us is a constant reminder of the thin line between divine wrath and madness. Treat them with reverence, but also with caution, for they are the living embodiment of the Emperor's unbridled fury.

[Additional information may be acquired by presentation of holy writ of approval by a ranking sister not below the rank of canoness co-signed by the ranking Sister Dialogus.]




Enjoy.

 

[Rakashua]

Part 1: The Less

The day begins as every day begins… consciousness tearing from the fabric of dreamworld and grafting to the great quilt of waking world.

I scream.

I always scream, sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours, once for a whole week. They'd nearly declared me Beastialix that time. It was then that I was forbidden to lucid dream of glorious battles and of the God Emperor. They may as well have forbidden me to breathe.
I watch in solemn dissociation as my hands move, tearing at the metal slab that is called bed, the smaller, raised metal slab that is called chair, and the metal bowl which is called water basin. Chair, Bed, Basin… cage…

I scream still, but inside I chide myself. It is not called cage; it is called living accommodations. It is made of bars of metal that refuse to bend and shatter my finger bones when I strike them and bruise my forehead when I slam it against them. I don't do that anymore. I remind myself of this as every ounce of my strength causes the bars to groan against the force of my arms.

Sister Karis arrives in slow, calm steps. Her voice is soft like a song. A song I don't remember the words to. She's speaking quietly. I can't hear her yet. I haven't stopped screaming. She has kind eyes. I stare into them. I feel the more returning. The pain of muscles straining to move bolted bed and bolted chair and bolted basin and bolted bars of my- of my living accommodations screams back at me.

I ignore it.

I'm done screaming for now.

Now I am crying.

The tears fall and so do I, down to the cold permacrete of the floor. Less, the less is worse than the pain. There was more. I know there is more. I know it will return, the more… some of the more of-

"Sister Frenzara?"

"Yes" yes there was more of her, more of Sister Frenzara. I am Sister Frenzara, I am the more. No. I was. Now I am the less…

Soft hands hold me as I cry. My blood is cooling. I can feel more than pain now. Soft, soft hands like… like blankets of silk.

One eye opens and I stare at the empty slab of metal called bed. It hurts to look. Looking makes the crying worse. It's missing something, something important-

"Blankets," I croak through dry lips and raw throat.

"Shhhh, are you cold?" Her words are soft, like music, like a song; like a song but I can't remember the words. "Would you like to get dressed?"

Now I feel her body, against mine, curled around me like a- like a blanket. Soft. Silk robes. Warm. Not shaking. Not screaming. And not Him.

"Would you like to get dressed, Sister Frenzara?"

I remain silent, eyes closed. I try to stay. I fight the less. I fight the urge to leave. I want to go to the one called Emperor. I want to return to the place called battlefield.
I want to go back to sleep.

Sleep.

Sleep where I am the more, where I am Sister Frenzara again.

I'm shaking. The tears are hot on my cheeks. The more is coming back, and with the more is knowledge of the less. There is so much of the less. The less grows every day. Soon I will be the nothing. I choke as I cry and I say something. I say words, words of the more, choked and broken but still of the more, words of Sister Frenzara.

"This litany I repeat, in the depths of my turmoil,
A beacon in the darkness, a lifeline to my fading humanity.
Emperor, hold me in Your grace, save me from the nothing,
And preserve the Sister I strive to remain."

She holds me close, lovingly, warmly, kindly, until I stopped shaking. The feeling that is called sadness leaves along with memory of what the words are for. What are the words for?
"No." I growled, unable to suppress it before it came out.

Sister Karis does not love me. She is not kind. Sister Karis is not called friend. Sister Karis is called Minder. Sister Karis does not hug; Sister Karis checks for the shivers. Sister Karis does not embrace; Sister Karis measures heartrate. Sister Karis is not called friend. Sister Karis is called minder. Minder of death. Re-minder of—

"No!" lips move but the more prevents other words from finding my voice. I am called death! I am death! I am… shivering.

I swallow, my eyes open again. Sister Karis does not ask friendly questions. Sister Karis reports what I say to mother.

"Y-yes…" a word. A word I used to use. A good word. A more word. A word Sister Frenzara uses when she is feeling the more, when she is better… When I am better. I remind myself of the word. "… please."

I stand. She helps. The door of the cage is open.

It is a cage. It is not called cage. It is called living accommodations. It has a lock. It has metal poles called bars. It was metal slab called bed. It has raised metal called chair. It has metal bowl called basin. It keeps me inside. It is a cage.

I know this to be true. I know they wish me to think otherwise. I am feeling the more now. The dream is fading. Tears sting my cheeks but this time I wipe them away. That is what the more do, they wipe away their tears. No. The more do not cry. Yes. The more do cry, but not in public, and not because of dreams and blankets and… the less.

"What would you like to wear?"

I blink, the food halfway to my mouth. My hand is hot. The food is hot. The food…? I've lost time again. I drop the food and pick up the metal stick called fork. I stab the food. The food goes in my mouth. Sister Karis is looking at me, expectantly. Expectation. Always expectation. All eyes look at me with expectation, even the ones in the mirror.

They all look for the nothing.

They all see the less.

Tears.

"What would you like to wear, Sister Frenzara?"

"Carnix!" The word is out of my mouth. I failed to catch it. Now it's loose.

Sister Karis is displeased. Her face does not change. Her smile is the same shape. Not a single muscle moves. But I see. I see a lot. I see it in her eyes. I see it in their eyes. The less is growing. The more is fading. I see very very well. I am not stupid. They think I am the less. I am not the less. I am Sister Frenzara. I see Sister Karis' eyes judging me, judging the less. I am not the less.

The food is gone. Teeth hurt. I take the metal stick called fork out of my mouth. The Less has been chewing on it. The plate is gone. Sister Karis is gone. I've lost time again…

Sister Karis is gone!

I'm on my feet. The raised wood also called chair is falling over. I catch it. It is… a word that means weak and small and little and fading and broken and me and the less and…

"No! I am not the Less! I am not fragile!" I'm sliding the chair back where it belongs, under the higher, larger wood called table.

No one hears me.

No one is… here?

Sister Karis is gone!

The door opens and Sister Karis is not gone anymore. The more, the more is almost in reach. It shines. It shines like Him. It is warm. Inside me is warm. The room is warm. It is happy. I am happy. I am the more.

"I've brought Carnix, as you requested, Sister Frenzara." Her hands hold the great eviscerator. Her hands. Her hands her hands herhandsherhands!

"Defiler!"

Sister Karis is on the floor. I am on top. She touched Him. No. She touched him. Yes. She isn't supposed to touch him. Only I get to feel His touch! No. Only I get to feel his touch.

Sister Karis' hand is red, arm is red, red runs down to her neck. Neck. Pain. Pain in my neck. A blade. A blade in my neck. A blade in Sister Karis' hand in my neck. I let go. Sister Karis is not kind. Sister Karis is not called friend. The blade is gone. I pick her up. Sister Karis does nothing on accident. I place her in the cage. It is not called a cage. It is a cage. I shut the cage door.

I go to Him, on my knees. No. I go to him on my knees. I pick him up, the more. The more. The anger and the more. No. The anger and the less. Carnix is angry today. No. Carnix is always angry. No. Carnix is more angry today than- than the day that came before today.

"Defiler!" I shout at Sister Karis. Carnix slams into the cage which is not called cage. I feel pain. I am wrong. I should not be doing this. Carnix does not want to eat the cage which is not called cage but is cage. Carnix wants blood and meat and warm and wet and…

I'm panting. I'm becoming the less.

No.

"I will be the more. I am Sister Frenzara." I am. I am speaking it out loud again, that is something the less does.

Sister Karis is out of the cage which is not called the cage.

"I see that you're upset," Sister Karis is beside me. Her hand is soft. Her hand is warm. The bandage pulls on the skin of my neck. Her hand has a knife in it! No. No knife. But her hand is not called the hand of a friend. Her hand is called death. No I am— I've lost time again…
"Can you tell me why you're upset, Sister Frenzara?"

"You. Touched. Him!" I glare at her. She smiles. She always smiles. Her smile is not called a smile. Her smile is called- It is called a mask. Her eyes do not smile. Her eyes are judging me. No. Her eyes are… sad. So sad. Why so sad? Why- Tears.

"You are upset because I removed Carnix's ritual shroud and placed my bare skin on his form, handle, shaft, blades, and body." It is a statement. It is not a question.

"Yes." I feel the blood. The hot. The less. I am the more.

"Sister Frenzara?"

"Yes!"

"Sister Frenzara?"

"YES!?"

"Sister Frenzara?"

Breathing hard. The less. Always the less, hunting, strutting, lurking, flanking, biting. I am the more. I am the more. I am the more. "I am the more, I am the more, Iamthemore."

"Sister Frenzara?"

"Yes. Sister. Karis?" I am the more. I pause. The more. More. More words. "What. Do. You Want?"

"Do you remember where we went last week, seven days ago? Do you remember the ceremony? Do you remember what you did, what we did, with Carnix?"

"No!"

It is a lie. But it is a lie from the more, not from the less.

I remember.

Tears.

If I say I remember… Sister Karis will take Carnix away from me. If I say I remember… I will become the nothing.

I look away. My eyes travel the room outside the cage.

Two raised wooden platforms called chairs. One higher wooden platform called table.
One metal slab called bed inside the cage. One metal slab called bed outside the cage, bigger.

Co-habitation.

The word. A word from the more, a word from so much more. The less is suddenly bigger. The less is in the second chair. The less is in the second bed.

The second chair. The second bed, bigger, like two metal slabs called bed. Two. For two. The bars, welded to ceiling and floor. The room, home. Kitchen. Bed.

Co-habitation. Flesh bond.

Tears. Shaking.

I hand Carnix back to Sister Karis because… because he doesn't belong to me anymore.
Tears.

"Y-yes…" I sob, I am the more, but I know the less, and I feel the nothing. "I. Remember."

"I'm glad that you remember, Sister Frenzara."

"S-sarah?"

The smile falters like a titan borne down by the firestorm of a Gargant. But the void shields are not overcome, and the smile snaps back into place with the crack of ionizing air. I am the more. I am the more… she is more. More. More to me.

"I think-" she falters. Her voice breaks. The tiniest of fluctuation in the titan's powerplant and the voids fizzle. For just a moment her naked armor is exposed. Then the shield is back in less than the blink of an eye. "I think it would be easier for us both if you called me Sister Karis."

Pain. Tears. Worse. Worse than waking.

I am the more.

I wish I was the less.

No. Yes. Yes I do.

"Sister. Karis?"

Pain. In her eyes. So much. So much that I can't look at them.

Suddenly I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to be in this place called home. I don't want to see the bed called shared. I don't want to see purity seals and holy wax written in twin hands, signed in shared blood. I don't want to remember the more.

"Can. We. Go?"

"Yes, Sister Frenzara. Would you like to go to the gardens?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to bring Carnix with you?"

"Yes!"

"Would you like to get dressed?"

My thoughts lose focus. The garden. The flowers. The holy words writ on soft, smooth stones. Fade.

I turn and the feeling called sadness is replaced by another. I don't remember what this one is called. This one does not come around very often anymore. This one is of the more. This one is being eaten by the nothing.

This one is… hope?

I take a step forward. I move towards the door. The feeling swells. It's warm, it's the more. The door leads to the place called personal armory. The door leads to getting dressed.

"No, Sister Frenzara." The hand is not soft. The hand is firm. The hand restrains. The hand angers me. I feel the hand trembling, subdermal, shivering, imperceptibly, against my arm. I stop. Sarah moves to the small wooden stand called dresser. Sarah pulls out a black robe. I step back.

"No."

"Would you like to get dressed, Sister Frenzara?"

"No!"

"Ok," the wooden stand closes. The robe is gone. I feel the hand again. The hand is soft. The hand is steady. Sarah's hand. Tears.

"Shall we take a walk in the garden, Sister Frenzara?"

"Yes. Please?"

 

[Rakashua]

Part 2: Sanctification Protocol Fading Ember: The Eventual Fall of a Red Fury

For the Eyes of the Canoness Superior, Prioress, and Abbess of the Adepta Sororitas and Select Sisters

Written by the hand of Sister Superior Agnetha, Founder of the Red Furies

In the Emperor's service, we, the Order of the Bloody Rose, have witnessed the birth and evolution of the Red Furies – our most devout and fervent warriors. Yet, with heavy hearts, we must acknowledge the inevitable toll that the Emperor's Wrath exacts upon their humanity. This document serves as a guide to recognize the signs of decline in a Red Fury and the sacred rites to be performed should they lose themselves entirely to the divine frenzy.

The Progression of Decline:

• Increased Isolation: The Sister withdraws further from communal activities, showing signs of deepening introversion.
• Diminished Communication: Reduction in verbal responses, often communicating only through actions or minimal gestures.
• Heightened Aggression: A notable increase in aggression during training, often extending to non-combat interactions.
• Loss of Social Norms: Gradual erosion of social etiquette, with diminished regard for rank or protocol.
• Erratic Behavior: Unpredictable actions or reactions, often without apparent cause.
• Decreased Empathy: A marked decline in empathetic responses to the pain or suffering of others.
• Obsessive Focus on Battle: An overwhelming preoccupation with combat and warfare.
• Sleep Disturbances: Irregular sleep patterns, often plagued by restless or violent dreams.
• Intensified Rage Episodes: Sudden and intense bouts of anger, increasingly difficult to control.
• Reduced Pain Response: A noticeable decrease in response to physical pain or injury.
• Disregard for Personal Safety: Willful neglect of personal safety in and out of battle.
• Hallucinations: Reports or signs of seeing visions, possibly communicating with unseen entities.
• Loss of Religious Observance: Waning participation or interest in prayer, rites, and other religious observances.
• Physical Deterioration: Noticeable decline in physical health, unexplained wounds or injuries.
• Memory Lapses: Signs of forgetfulness or confusion, particularly regarding personal identity or history.
• Feral Tendencies: Animalistic behaviors, growling, or adopting primal postures.
• Incoherent Speech: Speech becomes fragmented, nonsensical, or entirely absent.
• Unprovoked Violence: Attacks on fellow Sisters or staff without discernible provocation.
• Total Psychotic Break: Complete disconnection from reality, inability to recognize self or others.
• Irreversible Feral State: The Sister becomes entirely animalistic, a danger to all around her.

The Sacred Rite of Restitution: The Benediction of the Fallen Fury

Should a Red Fury succumb to these final stages, a solemn and discrete ritual must be enacted. This rite, known only to the highest echelons of our Order, is to be conducted with utmost reverence.

This complex and sacred ritual, "Benediction of the Fallen Fury," is designed to honor and release a Sister who has succumbed to the state of Menta-Beastialix with dignity and reverence. Each step is meticulously crafted to uphold the sanctity of the Sister's service and sacrifice to the Emperor and the Order.

I. Initiation of the Benediction

1. Convening of the Council
Participants: Local Council of high-ranking Sisters, including the Sister Fury's Canoness Preceptor and the Sister Fury's minder.
Responsibilities: Assess the Sister's condition, confirm the necessity of the Benediction.
Location: Council Chamber, a secluded and sacred space within the Convent.
Ritual Implements: Seals of Office, Sacred Texts of the Order.
Prayers: Invocation of Wisdom, Prayer for Guidance.

2. Signatory Approval
Participants: Council President, Canoness Preceptor, and the Sister Fury's minder.
Responsibilities: Provide official approval for proceeding with the Benediction.
Ritual Implements: Seal of the Council, Seal of the Canoness, Charter of the Order.
Prayers: Litany of Solemn Duty.

II. Preparation for the Benediction

1. Preparation of the Altar
Participants: Designated Sisters of the Sacristy.
Responsibilities: Set up the altar, adorn the sanctum with colors of mourning.
Location: Sanctum of Remembrance, a sacred space dedicated to fallen Sisters.
Ritual Implements: Altar cloths in mourning colors, candles, incense, holy oils, and relics of the Order.
Prayers: Chant of Sanctification.

2. Sanctification of the Space
Participants: Ranking Sister Chaplain of the Order.
Responsibilities: Bless and sanctify the space for the Benediction.
Ritual Implements: Aspergillum, Holy Water, Censer.
Prayers: Rite of Sacred Ground.

III. The Benediction Ceremony

1. Invocation of the Emperor's Mercy
Participants: Canoness Preceptor, Ranking Sister Chaplain, and attending Sisters.
Responsibilities: Invoke the Emperor's mercy and understanding.
Ritual Implements: Icon of the Emperor, Sacred Incense.
Prayers: Litany of Mercy, Prayer of the Lost Sister.

2. Administration of the Benediction
Participants: Canoness Preceptor (or designated Sister) and Ranking Sister Hospitaler.
Responsibilities: Administer the final sacrament to release the Sister's soul.
Ritual Implements: Chalice of Peace (containing a painless, sacred elixir), Anointed Blade.
Prayers: Sacrament of Eternal Rest.

IV. Conclusion of the Benediction

1. Final Commendation
Participants: Entire Convent, with the Ranking Abbess leading.
Responsibilities: Honor the fallen Sister's deeds and sacrifices.
Location: Hall of Heroes within the Convent.
Ritual Implements: Book of Remembrance, banners of the Order.
Prayers: Eulogy of Valor, Hymn of the Fallen Fury.

2. Sealing of the Record
Participants: Ranking Canoness and Ranking Sister Dialogus of the Order.
Responsibilities: Document the Sister's life and sacrifice in the Order's sacred records.
Ritual Implements: Sealed Scroll, Wax Seal of the Order.
Prayers: Litany of the Sacred Keepers.

3. Dismissal of the Assembly
Participants: Ranking Sister Chaplain of the Order.
Responsibilities: Dismiss the Sisters with a blessing, conclude the Benediction.
Ritual Implements: Benedictional, Symbol of the Order.
Prayers: Benediction of the Bloody Rose, Prayer of Continuance.

V. Post-Ceremony Rites

1. The Vigil of Remembrance
Participants: Close sisters of the fallen Fury, and her minder.
Responsibilities: A night-long vigil to honor the Sister's memory.
Location: Memorial Garden of the Convent.
Ritual Implements: Candles, personal relics of the fallen Sister.
Prayers: Night Psalms, Chants of Remembrance, a selection of Singulas Oraton of the Fallen Sister (if any) read by a close sister or her minder.

2. The Rite of Ashes
Participants: Select Sister(s).
Responsibilities: Scatter the ashes in the Garden of Heroes.
Location: Garden of Heroes.
Ritual Implements: Urn of Ashes.
Prayers: Litany of Eternal Wrath.

Let it be known that this rite is not an act of punishment, but one of profound sorrow and necessity. In performing this rite, we honor the Sister's service and her ultimate sacrifice to the Emperor. Her fall is a testament to the perilous path of the Red Fury and a somber reminder of the weight of the Emperor's Wrath.

In His Name,

Sister Superior Agnetha
Founder of the Red Furies, Order of the Bloody Rose