The Last Words of Elyza Redwood

“I was only three when they arrived. Their ships split the skies, their legions fell like fire, and my parents died as martyrs in the Emperor’s Light. I have never forgotten.”

Jayvia’s streets blazed with color. Banners of the Tau’s sigil hung between towers, and every wall was plastered with posters of unity—smiling humans and xenos, arms linked as though they had never been at war. Children darted between legs, laughing as they chased paper kites shaped like sleek alien vessels. Musicians played from balconies, their songs drowning out thought with the rhythm of celebration. Elyza walked among them, her father’s faded coat heavy on her shoulders, her gaze fixed on the avenue ahead.

“They call it liberation. They call it peace. They call it the Greater Good. But I remember the ashes, the glassed bastions, the orphans wandering the rubble. They would see it forgotten. I will not forget.”

A Water Caste envoy leaned down with a bowl of fruit. Small hands reached eagerly, children giggling as they took what was offered and scattered back into the crowd. At the avenue’s heart, the Ethereal moved with calm precision, pausing for each outstretched hand, speaking words too soft for Elyza to hear but enough to make the crowd ripple with warmth. People pushed forward not to demand, but to touch, to brush his robes as though the act alone could bring solace.

“They placed me in a foster house. A human mother, a Tau husband. They thought me blind. But the Emperor opened my eyes. From my fellow man did I find the Lectitio Divinitatus, and from that day I knew the truth: the alien is the enemy, as it has always been. In the God-Emperor’s footsteps, I follow.”

Elyza forced her way deeper into the crowd. A woman, weeping openly, reached for the Ethereal’s hand, and he bent low to whisper to her. The grief on her face softened into something gentler, as if pain itself had ebbed under his gaze. Elyza’s stomach turned. To her it was proof not of kindness, but of manipulation, sorcery hidden in a smile.

“Today is Liberation Day, they say. Today they celebrate their chains. But today I will break them. Today I fulfill my duty.”

Her hand brushed inside her coat, fingers grazing the weight of steel and wire pressed to her chest. The press of the crowd became suffocating—laughter and cheers ringing louder, brighter, every face turned toward the parade. Her heart beat in time with the drumline above, each pulse another step toward destiny.

The Ethereal’s eyes found her. For the first time, Elyza felt the weight of his gaze—not a predator’s, but the look of someone who saw her, truly saw her, amid the sea of faces. His lips curved into a smile, soft, unguarded. He extended his hand toward her, not in command, but in welcome.
And for a heartbeat, she faltered. No monster, no tyrant—only warmth. A future she had been denied. But faith crushed doubt.

“Suffer not the alien to live.”

Elyza pulled her coat wide. The crowd gasped. A child cried out, the sharp sound piercing the fanfare. The Ethereal’s hand did not draw back. Even as fear flickered across his features, he remained there, reaching.

She pressed the trigger.

A white-hot flash swallowed the avenue, brighter than banners, louder than cheers.

When the fire faded, smoke curled through the ruins. Broken banners clung to blackened walls. The cries of children echoed in the streets.

And her words remained, etched in memory like scripture: Suffer not the alien to live.