The golden flames danced and flickered, casting strange shadows across the medicae ward.

  The Salamander remained kneeling, his massive armored form utterly still as he studied the phenomenon before him. His glowing red eyes tracked every movement of the fire, every shift in its intensity, every subtle change in color or pattern.

  It was only after several long moments of observation that he seemed to remember the others in the room.

  He looked up at the sisters, then at Eve, who still knelt beside the cot gripping Lilith's hand.

  "Forgive me," he said, his deep voice carrying a note of genuine apology. "I am Brother Ha'ken, Third Company, Salamanders Chapter. I did not introduce myself. The anomaly... distracted me."

  His gaze settled on Eve, and suddenly his eyes widened slightly.

  "Child," he said slowly. "Your eyes."

  Eve blinked up at him, confused and still tear-streaked. "What?"

  "They are red." Brother Ha'ken leaned closer, his enormous form somehow managing not to seem threatening despite its size. "Like embers. Like the eyes of Nocturne's sons."

  He studied her face with intense focus, as if trying to read some hidden truth written there.

  "Where are you from, child? What world birthed you?"

  Eve shook her head. "Don't know. Don't remember."

  Brother Ha'ken's brow furrowed. "You do not remember Nocturne? The volcanic plains? The great forges? The radiation storms that mark our people?"

  "No."

  The Space Marine was silent for a long moment, processing this.

  "Then perhaps..." He trailed off, his analytical mind clearly working through possibilities. "The eyes alone do not prove lineage. But the resemblance is... striking."

  He gestured at the golden flames still wreathing Lilith's unconscious form.

  "This phenomenon. And a child with eyes like the sons of Vulkan. There is more here than simple coincidence. I must understand what is happening."

  His tone carried absolute conviction—not a request, but a statement of intent. He would not leave until he had answers.

  Sister Marian shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

  Brother Ha'ken turned his attention fully to Eve. "What is your name, child?"

  "Eve."

  "Eve," he repeated, as if testing the weight of it. "And this girl—" he gestured at Lilith's unconscious form, "—what is she to you?"

  Eve's grip on Lilith's hand tightened. For a moment, she seemed to struggle with how to answer.

  "Important," she said finally, her voice small but fierce.

  Sister Marian stepped forward slightly. "They're twins, Lord Astartes. Lilith and Eve. Sisters."

  Brother Ha'ken's eyes snapped to Lilith's face, studying her with renewed intensity.

  "Twins," he murmured. "Then the other child must also—"

  Sister Marian opened her mouth to continue, perhaps to explain more about their circumstances, but Sister Prudence's hand landed firmly on her shoulder.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The older woman gave a subtle shake of her head.

  Do not answer unless questioned.

  Sister Marian closed her mouth, nodding slightly in understanding.

  Brother Ha'ken noticed the exchange but didn't comment. He simply returned his attention to the flames.

  They were growing weaker.

  The golden fire that had burned so brightly just moments ago was beginning to dim, the flames shrinking, pulling back toward Lilith's body like a tide receding from shore.

  Everyone in the room held their breath.

  The flames flickered once, twice.

  And then—vanished.

  Simply gone, as if they'd never existed. No smoke. No residue. Just Lilith lying on the cot, her small chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

  For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

  Then Lilith's right eye opened.

  Just one eye—the red one. The gold left eye remained closed, blind as always.

  She blinked slowly, her vision clearly unfocused, disoriented. Her breathing was shallow, weak. She looked like someone who'd been pulled from the edge of death and wasn't quite sure they'd made it back.

  "Li—Lilith?" Eve's voice was barely a whisper, trembling with hope and fear.

  Lilith's head turned slightly toward the sound, her right eye struggling to focus.

  And then Eve moved.

  She threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around Lilith in a desperate, fierce hug.

  Lilith went rigid, her entire body tensing. For a moment she looked almost panicked—not used to the physical contact, not used to the overwhelming feeling of it.

  But then, slowly, hesitantly, she lifted one trembling hand and patted Eve's head.

  The gesture was awkward. Uncertain. But genuine.

  "Hey," Lilith rasped, her voice hoarse and barely audible. "I'm... I'm okay."

  Eve didn't respond with words. She just held tighter, her face buried against Lilith's shoulder, her small body shaking with silent sobs.

  Lilith's gaze drifted over Eve's shoulder, scanning the room.

  Sister Marian. Sister Mercy. Sister Prudence. All watching with expressions of relief and concern.

  And then her gaze landed on the elephant in the room.

  The massive, power-armored figure kneeling beside her cot.

  A Space Marine.

  A Salamander.

  Lilith's right eye went wide. Her breath caught.

  Oh no. Oh no no no. What—how—why is there a Space Marine in the medicae ward? What happened while I was unconscious?

  Brother Ha'ken stared back at her, and his expression shifted from concern to absolute shock.

  Because now he could see her eyes clearly.

  One gold. One red.

  Both glowing faintly in the dim light of the medicae ward.

  "By Vulkan's forge," he breathed. "Your eyes..."

  He looked between the twins—Eve with her matching red eyes, Lilith with her mismatched gold and red.

  "What are you?" he asked, and there was no hostility in his tone. Just pure, overwhelming curiosity. "What are you, children?"

  Lilith's mind raced, panic clawing at her thoughts.

  What do I say? What CAN I say? He's a Space Marine. He could kill us both without breaking stride. If I say the wrong thing—

  Brother Ha'ken stood slowly, his massive form rising to its full height.

  "I need to speak with both of you," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "Alone."

  He turned to the three sisters.

  "Sisters of the Ministorum. I ask that you leave us for a time. The children and I must talk. Privately."

  Sister Marian's face filled with alarm. "Lord Astartes, I cannot simply—"

  "They are under my care," Sister Prudence interrupted, her voice sharp. "With respect, Lord Astartes, I cannot allow—"

  Brother Ha'ken looked at Sister Prudence. He did not seem angry at her interruption; rather, he nodded slowly.

  "You protect your flock, Mother Superior. That is commendable. But I am not asking your permission," Brother Ha'ken said, his tone still respectful but carrying absolute authority. "I am informing you of my intent. The children will not be harmed. You have my word as a son of Vulkan. But I will speak with them. Now."

  Sister Mercy placed a gentle hand on Sister Marian's shoulder, squeezing lightly.

  "We should go," she said softly.

  "But—"

  "Sister Marian." Sister Mercy's voice was quiet but firm. "Trust in the Emperor's mercy. And in the Salamanders' honor."

  Sister Marian looked like she wanted to argue, but after a long moment, she nodded reluctantly.

  Sister Prudence's expression was unreadable, but she inclined her head to Brother Ha'ken. "We will be just outside, Lord Astartes. Should you require anything."

  "Of course."

  The three sisters filed out of the medicae ward, Sister Marian casting one last worried glance at the twins before the door closed behind them with a soft click.

  And then there was silence.

  Brother Ha'ken stood in the center of the room, his massive armored form dominating the space.

  Eve remained on the cot beside Lilith, still holding her sister's hand, red eyes watching the Space Marine warily.

  And Lilith...

  Lilith sat there, weak and disoriented, her mind still struggling to process what was happening, staring up at a literal Space Marine and trying desperately not to panic.

  Brother Ha'ken pulled up a chair—one clearly not designed for someone of his size—and sat, the metal groaning under his weight.

  He leaned forward, resting his massive gauntleted hands on his knees, and looked at the twins with those glowing red eyes.

  "Now," he said quietly. "Let us talk."