Book Three: The Heart of Yang Xiao Long
Chapter 93: Time to Say Goodbye
"We'll make everything all right / Oh honey, don't / Please, please don't leave me right now." - Woadian Veteran's Song, as sung by Janice Vadiik
"What do you mean, Ohma?" Yang asked.
The Chariot approached, the sound of bare feet against cold metal filling Weiss' office. "Abaddon's Crimson Path," she answered. More hesitantly than she'd ever spoken before. "Difficult to parse the data. Not a modality I'm accustomed to, and I lack the bulk of my processing power."
"Golden Throne," Weiss said, collapsing onto a chair. She huddled herself close, pulled her knees up to her chest. "Was a moment's respite too much to ask?"
"The Emperor's duty is never done," Yang answered gently, clasping her friend's shoulder. She accepted it, lighting a hand on the saint's. It almost looked skeletal. Oftentimes, Yang forgot that Weiss was an old woman.
Ohma padded over and handed the Inquisitor a tissue. She accepted it, pressed it to her nostrils. "Thangs."
Ohma nodded. Her head cocked once she saw Yang's shoulder. "You glow," Ohma noted.
"Yeah," Yang said, precious gifts forgotten. Ohma's fingers ran along her glyphs, tracing her marks and muscles with a reverential touch. Despite the metal exterior of her skin, her hands were silky and smooth. Warm.
"Fascinating," Ohma said.
"Weiss does good work," Yang explained.
"Yes," Ohma replied. "She does."
"So what now?" Weiss asked, ignoring the praise. "What's happening?"
"Calista will soon be arriving with a report," Ohma explained. "Her feet fill the halls of the Scythe with an uneven beat. I can taste the salt on her cheeks."
"Damn," Yang said, with a glance at Weiss. You sure she's not psychic? Weiss merely shrugged, a bead of crimson dripping from her nose-tissue and running down her wrist.
"Just perceptive," Weiss said.
True to the Chariot's word, the doors to Weiss' office opened, revealing a tear-stained Calista, a strip of vellum clutched between two trembling hands.
"My Lady," she said, all traces of her stutter forgotten. "Your Holiness," she said, bowing to Yang.
"It's okay," Yang said, gesturing her forward. "Come here."
Calista obeyed, clasping her purple astropath robes around herself. Kneeling before her superiors, she extended the vellum missive. Yang gently pushed it aside and wiped away Calista's tears. With a coo of reassurance, Yang let her aura shine, warming the astropath with wings of flame.
"Y-Your Holiness," Callista whimpered, eyes wide and shining.
"It's okay," Yang repeated. Though she was aching to see the message, the astropath needed this, and Yang would not deny her. Callista sank into the embrace, chest heaving.
"C-Cadia," she said. "Your Holiness, something's wrong. The Lord Castellan has disappeared after being wounded, and… and warp storms are opening up all over the Segmentum." She sobbed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so sorry," she said.
"You did nothing wrong," Yang said, stroking the woman's long orange hair. It looked like Ohma's. "Are your comrades okay?"
Calista shook her head. "Wilver's frothing. Taki is unconscious. Only I could walk."
"Thank you," Yang said. "You did well. Go get a hot cup of recaf. Maybe some lho," she added.
"I-I will," Calista said. "Thank you, Your Holiness."
"No problem," Yang said, accepting the slip of vellum. Calista bowed to Weiss before departing, delight at witnessing the Saint warring with her grief for the Imperium.
Ohma paid the astropath no attention, instead waving her hands through Yang's wings.
"Fascinating," she said. "Such curious phenomena." Her eyes shifted to Yang's halo. "It's… pretty," she said, landing on the word after a moment's deliberation.
"Odd word for an STC to use," Yang said, Ohma's joy bringing her a brief smile.
"Yes," Ohma said. Something occurred to her, and she withdrew her hand. "Excuse me a moment," she said. She departed Weiss' office, surprising the kasrkin as she flung the doors open with hurricane force.
Yang sighed, clutching the missive tight. "Golden Throne," she hissed, parsing it.
"It's bad?" Weiss asked.
Yang nodded.
"Fuck," the Inquisitor said. She sighed, rested her head on her knees. Looking at Yang she tried to smile. Failed. "You still have your wings."
"I know."
"What's happened?"
Yang's stomach dropped as she scanned the words. "Exactly what Calista said. Only…" Oh Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.
"Yang?"
There was another word on the vellum, one she never wanted to see on a magenta-level missive.
Woadia.
She handed it to Weiss, wings folding into her back. "Fuck me," Yang hissed, fingers kneading the bridge of her nose. "Fuckin' Abaddon ruining the moment." A soft, weak chuckle. "Guess these are going to come in handy," she said, waving at the three canisters and the gifts they contained.
"Yes," Weiss said. "Emperor help us."
"Yeah," Yang huffed.
"So what now?" Weiss asked. "Off to Holy Terra?"
Yang looked at her friend. She was exhausted, strained, on the verge of a breakdown. Too many emotional highs and lows, too many revelations, questions, and upsets. All after she nearly killed herself breaking Josephus' storm. She looked lost. A frightened child wearing the skin of an Inquisitor.
And then the answer struck her.
"No," Yang said. Walking over to her friend, she gripped her friend's shoulders.
"No?" Weiss asked, confused, looking for the Saint to anchor her.
"No," Yang said. "Going to Holy Terra won't help," she said.
"Then what do I do?" Weiss asked. "I know you don't want me to die, but it's…" She sighed. "It's what I deserve."
"You think that," Yang said, lifting her chin. "But it's wrong. Dying won't accomplish anything. Go to Cadia," she whispered. "Do what I did. You… hm." the words wouldn't come to her immediately - she was still new at this. "Seek redemption through battle," she said, finally calling them up. "More plots and schemes and Inquisitors won't help. Take Corruption's End. Go to Cadia."
"And what about you?" Weiss asked, gently clasping Yang's wrist.
"I'll go in your place," she said. "I'll make pilgrimage to Terra. Meet the Inquisitors. They can decide on whether to canonize me. And I can make sure they all keep level heads."
"Yang," Weiss whispered. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. I need to get sanctioned after all," she said, tapping her head. "Still not one hundred percent about my powers."
Weiss removed herself from Yang's grasp, stood up straight.
"Weiss?"
Slowly, painfully, the Inquisitor knelt before her friend. Genuflect before a vision of the Emperor.
"Your Holiness," Weiss said. "Yang. Charge me." A pause, her cheeks dusted with red. "Please."
Yang laughed. "Weiss Schnee," She said, gripping her shoulder, the perfect response coming to her from the ether. "Drench Myrtenaster in blood. Break the legions of Chaos over your knee. Find the Castellan. Hold the kasrs. Go." Another long, lengthy pause. "And for the sake of the Emperor, give me a hug."
Weiss obeyed.
Yang's fist rang against her back. "There we go," she said. "Yeah!" She cried, parting from the Inquisitor. "It's time to get mad, Ice Queen," she said, jabbing her in the ribs. A wide, impish grin spread across her face - one Weiss couldn't help but match. "It's time to fuck shit up."
"Even as a Saint you still confuse me," Weiss sighed. "Your ascension only made things worse."
"I'll take that as a win," Yang said, an undercurrent of adrenaline pumping through her. I like this idea. It feels good. Deciding felt good.
Weiss nodded. "I'll make the arrangements."
Once more, Yang was lost in the halls of the Scythe of Morning. Seeking the lair of Magos Prexius, she had taken a wrong turn somewhere, and now she wasn't even sure if she was on the same floor she started on.
This place is a labyrinth.
Despite the inconvenience, it gave her time to think.
Yang didn't like leaving Weiss to face the battlefields of Cadia alone, but the Saint knew that staying welded to the Inquisitor's hip would help no one. Besides, she isn't alone. She has her kasrkin and all of Corruption's End. She has the Guard. The Astartes. The Sisters of Battle.
The minds and hearts and prayers of billions.
She pondered that as she went to rescue Amat. It's been about thirty minutes since he left, more than enough to stick a leg back on.
A cadre of skitarii passed her in the hall, already on their way to collect her new equipment. Ready it for transfer. Before Holy Terra, Yang would take the Ascendant Dawn on a brief detour to the place she first boarded it - Woadia. Where it all began.
Once more, the humble agriworld was under assault. And it's my fault. The first day of the new millennium was a time of great upheavals - Yang was under no illusion that she was the only Saint made today. And in her ascension, her mind blared a clarion call across the Empyrean, borne aloft by thoughts of her friends and comrades.
And a portal had opened above Woadia.
She shook her head. No. It's not my fault. Chaos wants me to suffer, wants to punish me for holding my head high, for seizing the Chariot. Yang cracked her knuckles, relished the popping. Good chance to debut Ember-In-Glory.
Following the Skitarii's path, she eventually found the Magi's lair - the miasma of unguent and oily incense was unmistakable. As she raised her hand to knock on the bulkhead, Amat threw it open, eyes wild.
"Amat?"
He slammed the door shut. "Oh," he said, calm overtaking him. "Hey." He cleared his throat. Wearing only his bomber's jacket and a pair of scrub pants, he made for quite the sight.
"You okay?" Yang asked, biting down the impulse to put her hands all over him - a mighty struggle.
"Uh. Yeah." Stepping away from the bulkhead, he leaned against the wall and hiked up the leg of his pants. "Look." She followed his gaze to where his aug used to be, and found a brand-new limb in its place. Giving a low whistle, she stooped over to inspect the Magos' work.
The flesh of his new leg was pink and hairless, a stark contrast to its opposite. A plastic bandage wound tight around his knee, separating his leg into new and old. She saw the ridges of plastic staples along the seam, holding the leg in place while a powerful sealant fused the flesh together.
"Not too bad for a horrid centipede woman," Yang said, patting it.
"Ow," Amat said.
"Oops, sorry," Yang said. Resting a hand on his chest, she gave him a peck on the cheek. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Amat replied, grunting as he unfolded his pant leg. "Hurts. Got some drugs. Painkillers. Immunosuppressants."
"Sure, but it has to feel good... getting back on your feet," Yang said, shooting him a leering grin.
Amat shook his head. "I changed my mind. I quit. We can't do this."
Yang laughed. "So hurtful, Amat." A struggle broke out on his features as he tried to suppress a smile. "Come on," she teased. "Let's see those pearly whites."
He shook his head. "Won't give you the satisfaction."
"Oh, I'll give you satisfaction," she hissed into his ear, nipping it gently. He reddened, finally surrendering to a brief, shameful smile. Yang giggled. "There you go. Had to play dirty."
"Not fair." He reached out for her shoulder, hesitating once his fingers touched bare skin.
"Hey," she said, leaning into his chest. "Hey, it's okay." She put his arm over her shoulders. "You good?"
"Yeah," he said, a flicker of pain passing over him. "Thanks."
"Any time, assassin man."
"So what'd Our Lady want?" Amat asked.
Yang grinned as she helped him back down the halls. "Oh, you'll see."
"Everything… okay?" He asked.
Yang sighed, remembering. "Yeah. We decided we're… going our separate ways."
"Oh."
"Yeah," Yang said. "She's going to Cadia. I'm going to Woadia, then Holy Terra."
"I see," Amat said, staring ahead. "Have you decided where I'm going?"
Yang smiled and kissed him on the cheek once more. "That, assassin-man, is entirely up to you."
Ohma returned to her office shortly after Yang left. Weiss looked at the Chariot, tried to read the expression that she wore. Like many things surrounding the woman, it was nigh-on impossible to decipher.
"Weiss Schnee."
"Hey Ohma," Weiss said, glossing over how casual she was with a functional, intact STC. She was tired. More than she'd ever been. "Is everything well?"
"Yes," Ohma replied. "Yang and yourself needed some space is all."
"For someone who's never personally beheld human interaction before today," Weiss said, "you read a room as well as an Inquisitor."
"I am a fast learner," Ohma said. She pulled her hood back to reveal her fire-orange hair and the wonderfully messy bun that held it all in place. Weiss decided it fit her. "You're leaving for Cadia," Ohma said.
"Yes."
"Then we must say our farewells."
"Yes," Weiss agreed.
"A shame," Ohma said, approaching. Her expression was still unreadable. "You are the first human I've met."
"Not Tyrham?"
"Different," Ohma answered simply.
"Oh," Weiss said.
"I propose an exchange of our own," Ohma said, nearing further still. Even with barely a meter separating them, she was indistinguishable from a human with extensive yet peerless augmentations. I suppose that's the point. Her scent washed over her, the perfume unplaceable.
"An exchange?" Weiss asked.
Instead of replying, Ohma padded forwards, reaching out for Weiss' hip. She freed the Inquisitor's knife from its sheath and pressed it into Weiss' hands. Silently, gracefully, Ohma turned and knelt. Her shoulders sagged, and her robes fell to her waist, gliding over her back with a hiss of flawless silk
"Ohma?" Weiss asked.
The Chariot gathered her hair into her hands and held it aloft, giving the Inquisitor an unobstructed view of her back. "Your glyphs," she said.
"Oh… Ohma," Weiss said. She looked at the knife in her hands. "I… I don't know."
"It is quite alright," Ohma said. "Despite everything I know about the Warp, I know I am mostly defenseless against it. I am only..." She paused. It was the longest interruption she'd ever had. "Human," she said, her voice husky. "Somewhat." She looked over her shoulder. Weiss fell into her stare once again. "Please," she asked.
Weiss swallowed and knelt. She couldn't refuse the Chariot of Salvation. She makes a good point, after all. Her hand caressed Ohma's back, fingers running over the flawless synthskin. Data-flares hummed under her touch. They were warm, reassuring. Just how advanced is her body?
Very.
"Ohma..." Weiss said.
You will not hurt me. I promise.
The tip of her knife plunged into her skin. Ohma gasped, but remained perfectly still. Unmoving. Weiss worked, a prayer tumbling from her lips. Carving into Ohma's skin felt wrong. Blasphemous. But she asked me, and I shall not waver.
"This woman comes to You from a long slumber," Weiss prayed. "She seeks to do Your Will, and serve the Holiest Throne, a spear to pierce the heart of your foes, and a bulwark against ignorance." Faster. "By my hand I extend a shield of my own, meagre though it is and insufficient to Your light." Faster. "Human yet not, a woman yet not, she has reached out to me, Your humbled servant, for an aid in the struggle against darkness and extinction, in the everlasting war. I commend her soul into Your service, and ask that you guide her and keep her. Amen."
Weiss stopped, huffing and wheezing, the remnants of her aura utterly spent. It was done.
With a whiff of cold ozone, the markings solidified on Ohma's back, lacerations blossoming into black glyphs that covered her from the nape of her neck to her tailbone. A single standby button sat amidst a host of stylized wiring wrapped around a handful of sanctified servo skulls and purity seals.
"I lied to you, Weiss Schnee," Ohma whispered. She did not move to cover herself. "That… hurt," she said. "But it feels… warm? Curious phenomena," she said, as if to herself.
Though loathe to cover up the sight of her work, Weiss picked up Ohma's Mechanicus robes and settled them over her shoulders. "Are you okay?" She asked the Chariot.
"Yes. Thank you," Ohma said. She stood, letting her hair down once more. Turning to Weiss, she smiled. "In return." Reaching into the pocket of her robes, she pressed a wafer into Weiss' hand.
"A cyberwarfare suite?" Weiss asked. Ohma nodded - another mimicked gesture. She was indeed a fast learner.
"Yes, but more than that. A sliver of myself," Ohma reminded her. "With this," she said, wrapping Weiss' hand around the device, "you may call upon me whenever you need. Advice in battle, cyberwarfare, knowledge of the distant past, or a familiar voice in your ear. It is the least I can do," Ohma said. "A phrase you yourself used recently."
"Thank you," Weiss said. "I… I don't know what to say".
Ohma grinned. "That smile is plenty, Weiss Schnee."
"And you're certain you're going with her?" Weiss asked, examining him.
He nodded. Amat. Her Ace in the Hole. The final measure, her greatest mistake. "I'm sure of it," he said.
Weiss wanted to reach out and scan his mind, a measure she once used reflexively, without thought or hesitation. She desisted - Amat deserved better. It didn't matter that he'd recognize it now, the stiletto blade of her mind slipping into his.
"And what will you do with Yang?" She asked.
"I'm… not sure," Amat answered. "It's all new to me. I don't know what I'm doing," he said. "I wasn't ever supposed to know," he added after a second.
Weiss sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I… failed to consider the ramifications. Just one failure amongst many."
"My Lady," Amat said, hanging his head.
"Weiss," she corrected him. "I think after everything that's happened, you deserve that much."
"Weiss," he said, trying the name out on his lips.
"See? Not too hard," she said. Amat looked up at her, and she didn't need to read his mind to see the war of emotions that boiled beneath the surface. It was a delightful sight, her hard work rewarded. It was a terrible sight, a trusted servant beset by doubts.
"I will maintain my mission," Amat said eventually.
"Good," Weiss said. "She needs you, Amat. She might try and play tough, act like she's fine on her own. But it's a lie she has told before."
"I know."
"You are perceptive," Weiss said.
"Part of the job description," Amat said. She heard Yang in his words, and it brought a weak smile to her face.
"Indeed. Have you told her of your decision?" Weiss asked.
"Not yet," Amat said. "I think she knows, though. Despite your upcoming farewell, she's… happy."
"Good," Weiss said. "She deserves that much. You do too," she said, her tone taking on a dagger's point. "I know you're conflicted. The Holiest Temple, Yang, your aura, it's a lot. I understand. But only you can know what you really want." She took a deep breath. "Don't be like me. Don't wallow in indecision and self-pity. Know yourself."
"I will," Amat answered.
"Once you do, your aura will fall into place. So will everything else." Weiss said. She extended her arm to him. "The Emperor be with you."
Amat took it, his touch hesitant. "And with you, My Lady."
"Weiss," she reminded him.
Amat only smiled.
By the Throne I hate goodbyes.
After giving Amat a hearty pat on the ass on his way out, it was Yang's turn to say farewell to the Inquisitor. To Weiss Schnee. Her friend. It had only been a handful of hours since they'd met in her office, since meeting Ohma. Felt like an eternity.
"Hey Ice Queen."
"Yang," Weiss said.
"Guess this is it, huh?" Yang asked.
"Most of the 111th has been recalled from White Horses and is aboard the Ascendant Dawn," Weiss said. "It is time."
"I'm gonna miss you," Yang said. "I wish we could kick ass on Cadia together."
"Oh, we will eventually," Weiss said. Her grin was thin, but present. Fraying. "Of that, I have no doubt."
"Hell yeah," Yang said, punching her shoulder. It barely registered.
"Before we say goodbye," Weiss said, "I... owe you an apology."
"Psh," Yang said, waving her concerns away. "We already had this conversation. You're fine, Ice Queen."
Weiss was not smiling.
"No Yang," she said. The words were steel, though spoken like silk. "I am not. You were right. I tried to help in ways I thought necessary. I lied to you, yes. Sometimes it was justified, other times it was not. The truth remains - I wronged you."
"Weiss," Yang said. "C'mon. You're not just saying 'sorry' cause I'm a Saint now, are ya?"
"Fucking Throne, Yang," Weiss said, kneading the bridge of her nose. A chuff. "Even as a beati you're still trying to deflect an uncomfortable situation with humor." She looked up at her. "I don't know what I expected."
Yang tried finger-guns, but the response was… poor. Oops.
"Yang, even on Remnant I made mistakes."
"We both did."
"True," Weiss said, frustration ringing through her clenched teeth. "But we were better friends than that. Blake and I didn't do enough."
"I was-"
"It doesn't matter," Weiss insisted, taking a step forward. "We could have done more. But we didn't. And we didn't realize until it was too late. So I'm sorry, Yang. I'm sorry I left you alone."
"Weiss-"
"I'm sorry I obsessed over Ruby," Weiss said. "I was so fixated on her, I lost sight of everything else."
Yang chuffed, tried not to think about the words that were coming at her, faster and faster.
"I missed out on so much," Weiss said, taking another step forward. She reached out, thin hands on Yang's shoulders. "I missed so much. I want to sing, I want to lounge on a beach, I want to smoke lho. I want to be held. I've lived well over a century, and I don't feel like I've taken a single breath since she died."
"Weiss, Weiss," Yang said, taking hold of her friend's arms. "Easy, easy. Slow down, it's okay."
"It's not!" Weiss insisted. "I deified her, Yang! It's fucked up!"
"Yeah," Yang said, forcing the truth past her lips. "We both did. But now we're a little better. A little strung out too, but better. Even if it's just a tiny bit, that's all that matters."
"You don't have to lie to me," Weiss said, gulping down a breath.
"Good thing I'm terrible at lying then," Yang said, taking Weiss' cheek in her hand. Weiss accepted it, pressed it closer to her skin. It was cold. Dry. But she savored her friend's touch. "Shhhh," Yang said. Weiss was too tired to cry, despite her best efforts.
"I lied to you about so much," Weiss said. "About Ruby, about myself, about the Imperium, about Amat, about the augmentations I had Prexius-"
"Weiss," Yang insisted, "Stop. I think I get the point."
Weiss's lip curled upwards, a cruel parody of a smile. "I wrote a book about you."
"A book?" Yang asked. "Why?"
"What I was talking about earlier," Weiss explained. "Making you a false saint." Disengaging, Weiss took a few shaky steps over to her desk, where a single datapad lay. A finger rapped against the surface. A sigh. She picked it up and handed it to her friend.
Yang scanned the title - The Sacred Flame. She looked to Weiss.
"Are you going to read it?" Weiss asked.
Yang thought for a moment before a smile broke across her face. "Nah. I know what it says."
"You aren't that good," Weiss huffed, crossing her arms.
"Nope," Yang admitted. "But I can make an educated guess."
"I'm going to distribute it shortly," Weiss explained. "Before I go. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it. About anything."
"We both know how I would've reacted," Yang said, waving away her concerns. "You did what you thought was best. You fucked up sometimes, but no one's perfect." A gentle hand took up the sterling chain around the Inquisitor's neck. "After all, someone once told me that only the Emperor is infallible."
"Yeah," Weiss said.
Yang's grin widened. "Well, that's a lie too," she said, clasping the cylinder, shaking it on its sterling chain. "He fucked up worse than you did - he made me His Saint, and now the rest of the Imperium's going to have to deal with me."
Weiss laughed, wiped at her desert-dry eyes.
"I'm planning on some serious power-tripping," Yang said, clapping her friend's shoulder. "And I couldn't have done it without you."
"Yang!" Weiss said.
"The last part was serious," Yang said. "I owe you a lot. Not just for the weapons. You were there for me when it counted. Everything…" she waved her hand. "All that shit you came at me with. Yeah. It sucked. You said it - I don't have to lie to you, so I won't. It sucked. But you were still there. I was lost and alone when I showed up here. I wasn't alone when I found the Woadians, but I was still lost until I found you."
Weiss opened her mouth, but couldn't find the right words.
"I love you, Weiss."
Weiss embraced her. "I love you too, Yang."
"Your Holiness," Yang said softly.
"Nope, not right now," Weiss said. Yang laughed. They parted some time later. Yang wasn't sure how long they hugged, but it felt like a while.
"One last thing," Weiss said, digging into a pocket. She pulled out a square of red silk. Reverentially, she pulled the corners aside to reveal a golden relic.
Though no more than a slim disc, it was pure. Beautiful. Yang could hear it singing, the voice of angels humming their golden glory from the Astronomican. A sliver of the Emperor. A sliver of herself.
"I found this on the same planet I found you," Weiss explained. "I don't think it was a coincidence."
"Golden Throne," Yang said, staring at it. She's had this for almost a year? "It's… gorgeous."
"Catch," Weiss said, yanking on the red silk. The relic sailed into the air.
"Weiss!" Yang bellowed, snatching it immediately. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" But Weiss was smiling.
"It has survived much worse," Weiss said cheekily. "I don't think I could do any real damage to it."
Yang cradled the relic to her breast. "I'll pull that fuckin' necklace of yours and do some real damage," she said.
"Very defensive over an object you wouldn't have thought twice about a month ago," Weiss noted.
"I… hm," Yang said.
"It is yours now," Weiss said, tossing her the silk. "It has brought me some comfort in these trying times. Better with a Saint than a lowly Inquisitor."
"I guess," Yang said, chuffing. "Thanks." She held the relic, felt the warmth of it in her hands. "Thank you, Weiss."
"You're… pretty good at this Saint stuff," Weiss said, throat working. "I hope you get a real handle on it when we see each other again."
"You'll be kissing my feet," Yang said, choking down the swell of gratitude.
"Goodbye, Yang."
"Goodbye, Weiss."
Yang left, feet heavy. When she reached the massive steel door, she turned for a final look at her friend. How many times have we done this in the past year? She stopped.
"Kick their asses."
Weiss smiled. "Your will be done."
The doors slammed shut, but Weiss' smile held - a weight had been lifted from her chest. Every pore of her ached. The agony neared that of being plugged into the Golden Throne. She could feel herself swaying, eyes sore and heavy.
It didn't matter anymore.
Waiting a moment, she followed Yang out the door.
"Darron, Chera," the Inquisitor said.
"My Lady?" Darron asked.
"Call my staff together for a meeting a week from now. When we are well underway."
"I will," Darron said.
"Good. I will also be sending you the completed version of The Sacred Flame. See that it is distributed amongst Corruption's End."
"Your will be done, my Lady." There was hesitation, but no time to consider it.
Weiss made her way to her chambers - her bed was calling. It had been the longest day of her life - the first day of a new millenium. An auspicious day. Cadia's plight was certainly not the only fell news that assailed the Imperium, but there was good too. I witnessed it personally.
Hurling the door to her chambers open, she saw a data slate laying on her bed, its title staring at her. The Sacred Flame.
The name came to her at last - its real name, its final name, the title that would thunder across the Imperium as loudly as the woman herself.
Her fingers fell across the datapad - 'The Heart of Yang Xiao Long'. The Lady Highest Weiss Schnee collapsed into a slumber that was black and dreamless. The first one in many, many years.
Her smile held.
A/N: It's time to say goodbye to the things we love, and the innocence of youth.
Sorry this one took a bit, really had to get it right. I think I landed on what I wanted, and I'm happy with it. Hope you guys enjoyed it too!
Next chapter: Yang has a talk with the Woadian command regarding her newfound status. It goes… a way. See you then!