The Weight of the War
The ramp of the Ecclesiastical lander hissed open, releasing a cloud of pressurized steam that swirled into the cavernous hangar of the Ultramarines' Battle Barge. Canoness Angelica stepped onto the deck plating, her every footfall ringing with the weight of her power armour. Behind her, two initiate attendants followed in a rhythmic, practiced cadence. The first carried her golden battle helm, a scarred relic recovered from the smoldering ruins of her Order’s Monastery. The second bore The Sacred Tome of the Lost, an immense, gold-chased volume whose vellum pages held the names of every Sister of the Adepta Sororitas martyred in the grueling war on Phelona. The air aboard the vessel was a suffocating, holy miasma, a "soup" of cloying incense, melting candle wax, acrid promethium exhaust, and the sharp, metallic tang of sacred machine oils. It was the scent of a crusade. The soundscape was equally overwhelming, the Roar. Sub-orbital craft and heavy ground transports thund...
