Mirira Thorne is my name if that is even a last name anyone cares to cling to. I come from the Progena of the Scoala Pergini. Here I was molded into to devine healer under the God Emperor’s own will and design. Through him, I can further our mission and keep my sisters in battle ready to bring glory to the Emperor. Like my parents before me (or so I’m told) I serve a greater purpose. The only mark I have to remember my previous life by is a brand mark on my lower left back: the shape of the Death Watch sigil. It matters little to me what this symbol means simply that it is a reminder of others out in the vast expanse upholding and protecting the Imperial Creed.
 
I am among the lucky ones to have been orphaned and brought into the tutelage here. I can serve the Emperor greater through all the knowledge and skills gained in my years at the Scoala. The years have taught me to be reserved in the face of great chaos. A level head is the greatest gift to my Sisters and those I serve. While I am able to fight, my skills lie in healing and
 
Joy can be found in the small moments of comradery. We all strive to build a stronger Imperium. Some have strayed further than others. I’m sure that through friendships and, when needed, the force of a strong will, they will see the errors of their ways. The flesh is many a foe’s weakness. The right touch, cut, tweak, or pinch can force anyone to reveal their heresy. I delight in the agony I find on the faces of those who have strayed or have never known the Emperor’s light. I am not among the chosen to stand close by the Emperor’s side or to serve him as a bride, but perhaps through my service across the Imperium, I may yet be honored as a saint in my death. As I often say, the absence of faith is the mark of the weak.
 
Our flesh is our strength. It is strengthened and fortified by the Emperor and his light. It is my duty to stitch this flesh back together and keep it as whole as possible. I know many who have gone on to be Sisters in Battle and serve through their weapon skills. I try not to think of them as friends, their lives may be short and sentimentality has been a weakness of mine in the past. In my younger years at the Solara, I would be found weeping each time a new round of graduates left to serve the Emperor. Year after year, those I revered, was molded by, and respected…the ones who were my true sisters would leave. Over time, a callus formed in my spirit. I vowed that my connections would be only so dear to me as would allow for effective servitude to the Imperial Creed. I cannot be so cold-hearted to those I serve that they do not see my heart is in my work, but whether they live or die, my mission is to ensure that the next person who can spread the work of our Emperor is as strong as possible.
 
As for myself, I am but a vessel. My mind is a tool sharpened by the Emperor for his use and I will ply it to his will. Those who speak for him must stay the course. I only fear those who sew dissent between us. We all serve one Emperor. This is why it is important to know the true governance. It is easy to be fooled by false priests who have spent too long too far from his light. They speak out of turn and those in their care are strays as well. All wounds take time to heal, some wounds of physical, but there are those of the mind as well. I know that to heal the mind we must first listen and then remind them of the Emperor’s ways by any means necessary.