Sister Arturia Pisonius was born on Frana VI. She was raised to be a proud woman, but her parents, both Imperial Guardsmen, were tragically murdered defending the planet's capital from a Chaos invasion.

Young Arturia swore revenge, and unbeknownst to her she was overheard by Sister Mary Hivalya, a Sister of Battle. She recommended that the thirteen year-old girl be taken by the Adepta Sororitas. The teenager had never even heard of them, but gleefully accepted the chance to avenge her parents.

She was unmatched in skill for her age, and by the age of twenty-five was one of the best Sisters on Frana VI. Her long blonde hair and deep green eyes made her beautiful even as she cold. Additionally, because the planet was a hotspot for war, she never even had to leave her home; everyone agreed she was born lucky, save for her parents' deaths.

In fact, if she had one flaw it was her thirst to kill Chaos members: she absolutely despised them and would think of little but their deaths at the hands of her chainsword or flamethrower. She was personally responsible for nearly nine hundred Chaos members' deaths.

A planet that was a hotspot for Chaos invasions would normally have been subject to Exterminatus, but the valuable Sororitas temple kept the planet safe, at least from the Imperium

After every battle every Sister had to pray to the Emperor to cleanse them of the taint of Chaos, lest it infest their souls and turn them to the enemy without ever knowing. Arturia wished personally to use the time to practice her weaponry, but her superiors commanded it.

During the Battle of Franda Gulf, Arturia's holy flamethrower broke upon blocking an attack by Khorne Berserker. After the battle she sat down and began repairing it, and became so enamored by her work that she entirely forgot to pray. She went to her superior, Sister Laventon, and asked what to do.

The Sisters of Frana VI were a strict lot, and Arturia was immediately sentenced to the Sisters Repentia to atone for her sins. The nearly unarmored but well equipped squadron of Sisters who atoned for their sins by going out in a blaze of glory. It was the best Arturia could have hoped for.

Months passed before the next Chaos invasion, but she had no doubt she would ready to take as many down with her as possible. Every day she spent at least two hours praying that she would reach her personal goal before dying: 1000 dead members of Chaos by her hands. She was at only 984.

At last her chance arrived. The Chaos attack blitzed through the Imperial Guard and PDF (Planetary Defense Forces). The Sisters of course left the civilian populace to fend for themselves: their concern was the Temple. After only a few hours the entire non-Sororitas population was dead. They were the final bastion.

The forces of Chaos approached. Arturia said one last quick prayer to the Emperor for good fortune, donned her ceremonial armor covering her hips, breasts, and nothing else, with holy scriptures singing of His praise, and equipped herself with her trusted chainsword, her best friend, and her flamethrower. This would be glorious.

The battle lasted hours, but the Sisters Repentia did not. Arturia was the last: at 999 kills, she was bloodied and would be happy to kneel and die as soon as she plunged her blade into one more skull. The Sisters were losing, but Arturia didn't care anymore.

She eyed a particular Slanneshi cultist; a woman. She appeared to be some type of sorceress, and was barely dressed. She was perfect. Arturia advanced, flamethrower outstretched and sword in hand. The cultist saw her and unleashed some horrid psychic blast, but so well trained was Arturia that she ignored the pain and mutations being unleashed upon her. The cultist's neck beckoned to be cut.

But just then the air to the east shimmered, and battle paused for a moment. The Eldar! The Eldar were here! They began canting some Xenos magic, and both Chaos and Imperials panicked and redirected artillery to the aliens while the infantry just butchered whoever they saw. Many Sisters died by other Sisters' hands that day.

Arturia made one last run at the Slanneshi, but she avoided her attack. The Eldar's psychic attack, the Chaos sorcerers' magical counter, and Sisters' faith collided in a way none expected.

A blinding explosion engulfed everything, and Arturia saw her Sisters and her enemies alike ripped apart by the psychic vibrations. Even the Eldar seemed to panic as their ranks literally thinned into nothing. How it happened didn't concern her: only killing her 1000th enemy in the name of the Emperor did.

"NO!" screamed Arturia. "I shall not be denied my prize!" She raised her hand with the flamethrower attached and tried again to kill her target, but the psychic backlash of the explosion knocked her out. The last thing she saw was the cultist's face.

Arturia awoke. It was day, she could see that through her closed eyelids: that meant at least twenty-four hours passed, because she knew without a doubt she slept through the night.

The battle! She was still alive, somehow. Perhaps the foul Xenos and blasphemer magics combined in such a way to mutate her instead of killing her outright. A terrible fate, but not one that would stop her from her goal: if she survived, so must have at least one Chaos or Eldar. She smiled.

Rather, she tried to smile, but found her control over her lips to be very weak. She opened her eyes, and the day nearly blinded her. This was ridiculous: no light could harm her.

She tried to run her hand through her hair, something that always made her feel better, but the sheer effort of even moving her fingers randomly was enormous. She kicked, but found her control to be nonexistent. What had happened to her?

Finally the world began to come into focus, and she saw a face over her own.

"Please," she thought. "Let it be a Sister tending to my wounds."

Arturia then noticed that, oddly, she seemed to have no teeth. None at all. The explosion must have vaporized them; no matter, artificial teeth were far from expensive.

It was not. There were only three hundred Sisters on Frana VI and she knew all of them. This woman was black haired, and looked a little like--

By the Emperor it was the very same Slanneshi cultist she had attempted to kill before the Eldar spell ruined her chances. She appeared to be better dressed this time, though, in an actual dress. And she had... a bow in her hair? She looked almost normal. And now she had done something to her, Arturia knew it!

"Oh, you're awake." she smiled. Arturia realized she was being held in the cultist's lap, her hand around her head.

Wait, that wasn't right. Her hand shouldn't be that big.

"Coochy-coochy-coo." The cultist tickled Arturia's neck with one giant finger. That wasn't right either... What was happening?

"How are you doing?" the cultist asked in baby-talk.

"What have you done? What is going on?!" Arturia tried to say those words but felt from her own throat emerge only a gurgle.

"Aw, how cute!" More of the baby talk; this cultist was insane.

Arturia tried to grab at her neck and squeeze to kill her captor, but saw her own hands were fat and tiny. It made no sense: Arturia was strong and thin, she knew her hands like the back, well, of her hands. These were not hers!

The cultist stood up, still holding Arturia but clutching her to her chest with only one arm, and now Arturia's heart began racing because this was absolutely not right at all.

"What are you doing?! What have you to me?!" Again Arturia's words did not come. Instead she spat all over herself. It was disgusting.

"Aw..." The cultist seemed almost sincere. "I don't know if you're in there, I don't know if you understand me..." She smiled a matronly smile, the same kind the superior Sisters used when trying to bribe you instead of command you.

Arturia realized she was mostly naked. The cultist must have removed her ceremonial armor, but she could feel that while her torso was bare her nether regions were covered. What was this?

And she sheepishly realized she felt less... weight, on her chest.

Arturia realized she was being held in one arm: she was small. Very small. And then something happened that horrified her beyond words.

She pooped herself.

This was not something that was supposed to happen. She, of course, had control of... THAT. But no longer, she realized, she hadn't even noticed she needed to go and couldn't contain herself.

"Oh? Ah. Yes, that's... less cute."

"What have you done to me?!" she spat on herself trying to say those words.

"That spell, that WONDERFUL spell those Eldar cast, it combined with our spell calling Slannesh. You see, little Sister, the Slanneshi spell was to grant us our desires: we desired our enemies die. The Eldar's spell killed all off us save myself because I happened to be equipped with an armor that... well, that's not important. I survived; I was the only one of us that did. The spells magnified each other: everyone on this planet, except us, died."

"Why me?" she tried to say.

"Let me help you with that."

The cultist set her down on the sacred steps to the temple and removed from her belt a knife. Arturia realized she was free but still couldn't move. She kept her eyes on the cultist: surely she was to be the newest sacrifice to her heathen god.

Instead she walked over to a dead Sister and cut from her holy cape a length of cloth, and returned to Arturia. She removed Arturia's bottom covering and fashioned the clean cloth into a new skirt... no, a...

Was that what Arturia thought it was?

The cultist dressed Arturia in a diaper. A clean one.

"WHAT IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME?!" she spat on herself again, tried to move her arms, and strained herself. Her muscles were too weak. They were undeveloped, as if she had been a baby.

Oh, hell.

"It's so exciting!" giggled the cultist. "Oh, I never introduced myself; my name is Ilya. So anyway," Ilya picked Arturia up and cradled her in her arms. "I was the only cultist left and there was this big spell to Slannesh asking for what the cultists wanted. With everyone dead I guess it went to my PERSONAL greatest wish."

"Which was?" Arturia tried to say.

"I joined the cult of Slannesh when I was twenty-two, and while I have no regrets, I never got to be a..." Ilya looked down to Arturia's horrified face. "Mommy."

"What."

"So I think the spell turned the nearest person to me, you, into what I wanted. See, shortly after I joined the cult I underwent a particularly CRUEL ritual that... I'm babbling. Suffice it to say that I can't bear my own children, but now I have you!" she said in a cutesy voice.

"What."

"I don't know what your name was, and you can't tell me, so I'm going to name you myself. Uh, what should I call you? You'll call me 'mommy', of course."

"No! NO! By the Emperor, put me down and kill me! I would rather see Frana burn a thousand times than be put through this!"

"Oh! I know! The woman who inducted me to Slannesh, her name was Bubble. She died, but she was a friend, so you can have her name!"

"No!" she burbled and spat on herself again.

"Oh this will be WONDERFUL! I know a proper mommy wouldn't be dressed like I was so I found a dress and put it on."

"No! No! No!"

"And guess what? This world is razed already!"
Bubble had no idea what relevance this had.

"That means..." Ilya started skipping down the field of bodies, cradling Bubble in her arm. "That the Imperium isn't going to bother with this world for decades because we're so far out of the way!" It was, horrifyingly, true. Bubble was no expert but she knew it was true. "And I doubt Chaos will have any interest in a dead planet with no souls to offer the gods!"

It was true, but it couldn't be! Could the Emperor really have forsaken her in such a way?

"I can't wait to see you grow up! I'll be your mommy, I'll read to you every night, I'll feed you and put you to bed..."

No...

Bubble, for the first time since she was thirteen, cried.

"Oh, don't cry..."

Ilya put her mouth on her baby's tummy and blew a wet raspberry. Bubble, involuntarily, giggled loudly. She was terrified.

"I don't think I'm even going to give you over to Chaos, maybe. I think, I think it'll just be us, alone. There's surely enough non-perishable food and supplies to last two people two lifetimes, right? I won't raise you to worship anyone; just you and your mommy."

A day passed. Bubble awoke in her sleeping mother's arms. She didn't want this. She reached out to choke her captor, but only strained herself and started crying.

"Mm?" Mommy sleepily opened her eyes. "Aw, you pooped yourself again."

It was true. Bubble hadn't noticed.

"Well, don't worry! We're in the city nearest to that ugly temple, I got here after you fell asleep during the hike, so I have plenty of supplies this time! I'm going to be a GREAT mom, don't worry!"

From a satchel Mommy pulled a box of diapers that survived the invasion and set Bubble down. She cried and tried to crawl away, but a baby's muscles are so undeveloped that is would have been impossible if she had had all the time in the world.

Mommy pulled a wipe from the satchel and, to Bubble's embarrassment, wiped her butt. She put on a new, real diaper. It felt good to be clean.

Oh, Emperor, what was she thinking?

"Okay, now, I'm not really sure how old you are... I know a REALLY little baby is supposed to breast feed," Bubble was horrified. "But I can't." Bubble was more relieved than she ever had been. "But I found this formula in the store with the diapers, so don't worry. Mommy poured the formula into a plastic bottle and inserted the rubber nipple into Bubble's mouth.

And Bubble realized she was HUNGRY. She involuntarily started taking it in, hating herself every moment of it.

But every moment it became easier and felt more right. This woman, her mommy, was taking care of her. She had rescued her from the battlefield, she had changed her and fed her and cared for her when she was asleep...

This didn't make sense: Bubble needed to think. But she was getting so sleepy... SO sleepy... Did babies need more sleep than adults? She didn't know. She needed to think about things but it was getting so hard to do that while this tired.

Wait! Mommy wasn't tired; she could think for her until she wasn't tired anymore, when she was grown up! That made sense!

Bubble yawned, slurped up the last of the formula, and fell asleep in her mommy's arms.

And that was the moment the consciousness that had been Arturia Pisonius faded from existence. In its place was the blank slate of the baby Bubble, who looked forward to a life of being raised by her loving mother in the ruins that had been the city she was born in twenty-five years before.