‘Death in battle is an honour,’ I say. ‘The greatest honour.’

Qi-Oh stands there a moment just breathing, her shoulders rising and falling with it.

‘Evangeline is right, Sister,’ Joti says to her, softly. ‘Death draws the God-Emperor’s eye to us. It is a blessing. You know this.’

Qi-Oh does not look at her. Her eyes stay locked on mine. One crimson, and one hazel. There’s a slim line through the blood and ash on her face where a tear has painted it clean. A rivulet, like Calyth’s blood on the steps.

‘Not like this,’ she says. ‘Not this death.’

And then Qi-Oh strides past me, heading for the chapel exit. Joti tries to stop her, as does Ashava, but I hold my hand up.

‘Let her go,’ I say.

And they do, allowing Qi-Oh to leave the chapel without another word. All falls quiet, then, save for the Vow’s creaking and the stirring of thousands of votive flowers. I sheathe my sword, and approach Calyth’s body. I kneel beside her and take hold of the sleeve of my vestments, tearing away a strip of the crimson fabric. I fold it three times to make a fleur-de-lys and place it in Calyth’s hand before closing her fingers around it gently. I look at her face. Despite the manner of her death, Calyth’s expression is peaceful. Beatific. As if she is looking up into warm sunlight.

‘Taken unto Him, sword in hand,’ I say.

From behind me, seven voices speak as one.

‘May her blade never dull.’

I stand then, and turn away from the chancel and from Calyth, lying still in her meadow made of ash-coloured flowers. My Sisters look to me, expectant.

‘Sister Superior,’ Ashava says. ‘Your orders?’

I hesitate before answering, my jaw aching.

‘Burn them,’ I say.

We cut and we kill and we burn our way from one end of the Unbroken Vow to the other, sparing the few members of the ship’s crew that we can and delivering mercy to the rest. Our cruel duty takes us through the ship’s gunnery decks and the crew billets. Through respite areas and training halls. Through furnace chambers and fighter berths. Like my Sisters, my ammunition quickly runs dry, leaving me with nothing but my sword. The blade weighs heavy in my hand, almost completely blackened from use, making the words engraved there illegible.