Initiation
"It's a beautiful thing, isn't it?" The marine turned the blossom over, surprisingly gentle despite his armored hand. The boy could only nod. Beaten, exhausted, and nursing a broken arm, he had clambered tooth and claw to victory and was the first victor--possibly the only one--this year.
"Like this world. Bright. Beautiful. Something worth fighting for." The aspirant agreed.
The massive battle-brother looked at the flower in his massive hand.
He clenched.
For a moment the shock numbed the boy. Then with a wail, he began to hammer the marine's leg in tearful fury.
The Astartes gazed down. He couldn't be more than twelve. Let him have this, he decided. It will be his last outburst.
Finally, pain racking the child's form, his blows relented and he sank to the ground, still clutching feebly at the marine's kneeplate.
"Understand," the Nightmare said through the vox, his helmet impassive as stone, "that you could no longer be part of this beautiful world. Understand that you, like this flower, were pulled from your home, and could no longer grow. Understand," he finished, "that you have given your share of this life to protect the whole. This is your sacrifice. Bear it with pride... brother."