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I awakened to the miasma of incense, thick enough in the air to override the coppery scent of blood in my nose. My hands were bound with coarse rope, I assumed hempen due to the agri-world I was on previously. The chair I found myself in was softer than an accused heretic deserved, and yet there was a steady discomfort in my spine. Leaning back, I was able to identify the discomfort. A melta charge was planted within the cushion, the lump only noticeable when I contorted.
Through bruised and swollen eyes, I spotted skeletal approaching me. At first, I feared it had been the Emperor himself, risen from his throne to crush the very life from my body for my iniquities. However, the click, skid pattern of metal on the chapel stone identified my captor. My own chief interrogator, turned against me.
His blade, humming imperceptibly with power, tipped my chin so I might look long into his face for one last time.
“Inquisitor… Why must you make me do this?”
His voice drops, as does the pressure of a knife tip at my submental triangle. I was not free, though, as the pain of the blade pushing slowly into the meat of my brachioradialis caused me to choke back a whimper.
“You were the best of us, and yet you fell.”
I understood what he was doing now, torturing me for failing him, for failing Persephone, Gideon, Alessio. They all died, and only us survived.
His knife traveled distally, slowly severing the fibres of muscle and nerve. I attempted to keep track of what damage was done, but I could not. No amount of training could have prepared me for torture at the hands of a chief interrogator – perhaps that was by design.
Further still, while I was aware of his methods, Touma’s act of pressing his lips to mine while his knife found purchase in my radius threw me farther than any act of foul heresy could have.
“And yet, my love for you grows.”
I struggle to speak, the thick coagulating blood that had been dripping down my throat caused my words to sputter.
“To remove all weakness,” he whispered, the words caressing the one ear I could still hear out of, “I must remove you.”
He placed his hand over my heart, feeling the spot between my ribs that had not been reinforced by subskin armor before aligning the tip of his blade.
I gazed into his eyes, so that his face might be the last taste of beauty I had while his knife found purchase, stilling my heart for eternity.