A month had passed.

  Thirty days of routine—morning prayers, breakfast, education, chores, free time, evening prayers, dinner, sleep. Repeat.

  But within that routine, Lilith had carved out her own patterns.

  Mornings: prayers and chores, same as everyone else.

  Midday: lessons with the tech-priest, absorbing everything with her enhanced memory, helping Eve and Lysander when they struggled.

  Afternoons: medicae training with Sister Marian. Hand washing until it was automatic. Anatomy diagrams until she could identify every major blood vessel and pressure point. Wound treatment on cloth dummies until her small hands moved with practiced efficiency. Herb identification. Symptom recognition. Basic diagnosis.

  Late afternoons: tutoring Eve and Lysander in the library. Reading, writing, arithmetic, Imperial history. Watching them both improve day by day.

  Evenings: quiet time with Eve before sleep. Sometimes talking. Sometimes just sitting together in comfortable silence.

  It was peaceful. Stable. Almost... normal.

  And Lilith was surprised to find that she didn't hate it.

  The courtyard was filled with children.

  Not the young ones—the older ones. Teenagers, mostly. Boys and girls ranging from maybe twelve to sixteen years old.

  They stood in neat rows, wearing fresh uniforms that looked strangely out of place on orphans who normally dressed in plain gray robes.

  The Steel Legion recruitment.

  Lilith stood with Eve and Lysander near one of the courtyard's pillars, watching the ceremony from a distance.

  A sergeant in full Steel Legion gear—greatcoat, rebreather mask, lasgun slung across his back—stood before the assembled teenagers, his voice carrying across the courtyard.

  "You have volunteered for service in the Emperor's armies," he proclaimed, his voice muffled but clear through the rebreather. "You will be trained. You will be armed. You will fight for the Imperium. You will protect humanity from the xenos, the heretic, and the daemon. This is your sacred duty. This is your honor."

  The teenagers stood at attention, their faces a mixture of pride, fear, and determination.

  Some looked eager. Some looked terrified. But all of them stood straight, accepting their fate.

  Lilith felt something twist in her chest.

  They're so young. Just kids. And they're being sent off to war.

  She knew, intellectually, that this was how the Imperium worked. Child soldiers weren't unusual—they were standard. The Guard took recruits as young as they could train them. Hive worlds like Armageddon had endless supplies of desperate children willing to trade their lives for a chance at purpose, at glory, at escape from the lower levels' crushing poverty.

  They're willing. They want this. It's better than the alternative—dying slowly in the underhive, or being consumed by gangs, or starving.

  But knowing that didn't make it easier to watch.

  She recognized a few faces in the crowd. Older children who'd lived in the dormitories she never visited, who ate at different meal times, who existed in a separate world within the orphanage.

  Now they were leaving. Going off to fight. Going off to die, most likely.

  In ten years—maybe less—most of them will be dead. Killed by Orks, or Chaos, or simple bad luck. That's just how it is in 40k.

  The sergeant finished his speech. The teenagers saluted—awkward, unpracticed, but earnest.

  And then they were marching out, following the Steel Legion soldiers toward transport vehicles waiting beyond the orphanage gates.

  The younger children watched them go, some waving, some crying.

  Lilith just stood there, feeling the weight of it.

  "Do you want to become like them?" she asked Lysander quietly.

  The boy looked up at her, his expression thoughtful for a moment.

  Then he shook his head firmly.

  "Nope! I want to be a Space Marine!"

  He said it with such pride, such innocent certainty, that Lilith almost didn't know how to respond.

  A Space Marine. Of course he does. He's obsessed with the Salamanders.

  She looked down at him—this six-year-old boy with messy brown hair and bright, hopeful eyes.

  Should I tell him? Should I explain that becoming a Space Marine is almost impossible? That the selection process kills most candidates? That even if he somehow survives the trials, the gene-seed implantation might kill him? That he'd have to undergo years of brutal surgery and psychological conditioning that would fundamentally change who he is?

  Should I tell him that his dream is, statistically, a death sentence?

  Lysander looked up at her, waiting for her response, still smiling that innocent smile.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  He's six years old. He's allowed to have dreams. Even impossible ones.

  Lilith managed a small smile. "That's a good goal, Lysander. Space Marines are really cool."

  His smile widened. "Right? They're the best! And the Salamanders are the coolest ones because they actually help people and they have fire and—"

  He launched into one of his usual enthusiastic rants about Space Marines, and Lilith let him talk, nodding occasionally.

  Eve watched the exchange with her usual quiet intensity, not commenting.

  Later, as they walked back toward the library for their usual study session, Lilith found herself lost in thought.

  "We've been here for two months now," she said aloud, more to herself than to her companions. "Give or take. Two months at Saint Celestine Orphanage."

  Eve and Lysander both looked at her.

  "Time goes by fast," Lysander said. "Feels like you guys just got here yesterday."

  "Yeah," Lilith agreed softly. "It does."

  She thought about everything that had happened in those two months. The interrogation by the Inquisitor. The fever and near-death. Meeting Brother Ha'ken. Learning medicine from Sister Marian. Teaching Eve and Lysander. The routine. The stability.

  We'll have to leave eventually, she thought. Ha'ken said he'd bring us to Nocturne. The Salamanders won't let us stay here forever. This is temporary.

  The realization settled over her like a weight.

  I don't want to leave.

  The thought surprised her.

  She'd been so focused on survival, on getting through each day, that she hadn't stopped to consider that she'd actually started to... like it here.

  The orphanage wasn't perfect. The food was terrible. The accommodations were sparse. The hive city outside was a toxic hellscape.

  But it was safe. Stable. The sisters were kind. The other children mostly left them alone. She had a purpose—learning, teaching, growing.

  This feels like... home. Or as close to home as I'm going to get in this universe.

  Eve's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Lilith likes it here."

  It wasn't a question. Just an observation, stated with Eve's usual blunt certainty.

  Lilith looked at her twin, surprised. "How did you—"

  "You smile more," Eve said simply. "You're... happy. More than before."

  Lysander nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! You could totally stay here forever! You could be like Sister Mercy or Sister Marian! Taking care of kids and teaching them stuff!"

  The image popped into Lilith's mind unbidden—herself as a grown woman, wearing the robes of the Adeptus Ministorum, leading prayers, teaching children, living a quiet life of service.

  She almost laughed.

  Me? Religious? Taking care of an orphanage full of children in perpetuity?

  It was absurd.

  Not because she couldn't do the work—she actually enjoyed teaching, and she was getting pretty good at basic medicine.

  But because of everything else.

  My background. Eve's background. The fact that we're gene-seed experiments being watched by the Inquisition. The fact that I have a dormant Navigator's Eye and untapped psyker potential. The fact that Eve is a Blank who could kill psykers just by existing near them.

  Staying here long-term would just create more problems. For the sisters. For the other children. For everyone.

  "I don't think that's going to work," Lilith said gently. "But thanks for the idea, Lysander."

  The boy's expression fell slightly, then turned shy.

  "Oh. Well... I just..." He looked down at his feet. "If you and Eve leave... I'm gonna miss you guys. You're my friends."

  Something warm and achingly tender bloomed in Lilith's chest.

  He's just a kid. They're both just kids.

  And they're adorable.

  She reached out and patted Lysander's head, ruffling his hair affectionately.

  "We'll miss you too, Lysander."

  Eve immediately moved closer, pressing against Lilith's side, clearly wanting the same attention.

  Lilith chuckled and patted Eve's head too, her hand gentle as it moved through her twin's short black hair.

  "Both of you are important to me," she said softly. "Even if we have to leave eventually, I won't forget you."

  Eve leaned into the touch, her eyes closing slightly—that familiar gesture of contentment.

  Lysander beamed up at her. "Promise?"

  "Promise."

  I can't promise we'll stay. I can't promise we'll see each other again. But I can promise I won't forget.

  That's something, at least.

  Night fell over the orphanage.

  Eve had fallen asleep almost immediately after prayers, exhausted from a day of running around with Lysander during free time. She lay curled against Lilith's side, breathing soft and steady.

  But Lilith remained awake, staring up at the ceiling.

  Her mind wouldn't stop churning.

  A month since the fever. A month since the golden flames. A month since Brother Ha'ken left.

  No word. No sign. No indication that he's coming back.

  Is he still planning to return? Or did the Salamanders decide we're too dangerous after all?

  The thought made her anxious, but she pushed it down.

  No. He gave his word. Salamanders are supposed to be honorable. If he said he'd return, he'll return.

  ...Eventually.

  Her thoughts drifted to Naic.

  That strange entity in the white void. The one who'd cleansed her mind and given her the golden flames.

  What were those flames, exactly?

  Eve had described them as beautiful. Warm. Not burning.

  Brother Ha'ken had said they weren't Warp-flames. That they felt different—pure instead of corrupt.

  Are they a psyker power? Something that manifested from my gene-seed?

  Or did Naic do something to me? Change me in some fundamental way?

  She had no way to know.

  The flames had appeared when she was unconscious, fighting a fever that should have killed her. She had no memory of them. No sense of how they worked or how to call them again.

  Maybe that's for the best, she thought. If I could use them consciously, I'd have to explain them. And how do I explain something I don't understand myself?

  But the question nagged at her.

  Psyker powers come from the Warp. They're connected to the Immaterium. But Ha'ken was certain these weren't Warp-flames. He could feel the difference.

  So if they're not from the Warp... where are they from?

  What did Naic actually do to me?

  She let out a quiet sigh, careful not to wake Eve.

  This is going to complicate things even more, isn't it? As if being a failed psyker experiment with a blind Navigator's Eye and a Blank twin wasn't complicated enough.

  Now I have mysterious golden flames that no one understands.

  Great. Just great.

  Another thought crept in, darker and more tempting.

  Maybe it would be better to just... leave. Not wait for Ha'ken. Not go to Nocturne. Just take Eve and disappear into the hive.

  Or better yet—steal a transport somehow, get off-world, find some backwater planet where no one knows us or cares about gene-seed experiments.

  Just the two of us. Traveling. Surviving on our own terms.

  The idea had appeal.

  No Inquisitors. No Salamanders. No obligations or expectations. Just Lilith and Eve, making their own way.

  We could do it. Eve's strong enough to protect us. I'm smart enough to find work, to navigate situations. We'd figure it out.

  But even as she thought it, she knew it was fantasy.

  Eve needs more than just me. She needs to be around other people. To learn how to interact, how to be social, how to exist in society.

  If it's just the two of us, isolated and alone, she'll never develop beyond what she is now. She'll stay that weapon the Magos created—functional, but not fully human.

  And I... I need this too. The routine. The purpose. The normalcy.

  Running away sounds romantic, but it's just running. And you can't run forever in a universe like this.

  Lilith closed her right eye, letting exhaustion finally start to pull at her consciousness.

  We'll stay for now. Learn what we can. Grow while we have the chance.

  And when Ha'ken comes back—if he comes back—we'll face whatever comes next together.

  That's enough.

  She felt Eve shift slightly beside her, pressing closer even in sleep.

  Lilith wrapped her arm around her twin, holding her close.

  We'll be okay, she thought, though she wasn't entirely sure she believed it. Somehow, we'll be okay.

  And with that fragile hope, she finally let sleep claim her.

  Important Announcement!

  "Beyond the Deep" (my other one is currently on hiatus which is "Curtain Call" and i will do a rewrite of that).

  not Grimdark. (Sadly, no Space Marines though, haha). There's no stupid MC (like simp or naive) and no harem. What else? Well, you'll just have to read it to find out XD (I don't want to spoil it!).