My Warhammer 40k experience is coming along nicely. I have become inured to the blood and gore and now have one favorite that stands out, 'Daemonblood' by Ben Counter. The female character is fighting a lost battle along with an Ultramarine, and his soul is overtaken in front of her by Parmenides, Prince of Nurgle, Plague God. As Castus' soul was being devoured, he was struggling to stay connected to his memories as an Ultramarine, and I really loved how the author described the difficulties he experienced and his eventual failure. The woman, Aescarion, survives but spends the next twenty? years tracking this Ultramarine turned Daemon prince. He's been wreaking havoc as you can imagine.
At the end, she meets Castus again and defeats him, but says to him, Look, dude, you will never be an Ultramarine again, but you have the chance to regain the light. And right before he dies, he confronts Parmenides and becomes once again Sergeant Castus of the Ultramarines.
The story wasn't really about her, even though she took it as a personal affront, Castus' fall from grace, and made it her life's ambition to wipe him from the face of the galaxy. It was about him and his ability to regain himself, who he really was, right before the end. That was freaking awesome to me, and I was happy for him.
"I managed to grind out an entire page of story Sunday night!", shouts the virgin writer. (Me. I have switched topics.) I was very proud of myself! My husband loved it, made me feel good. I know this sounds corny, but I felt something change inside, a tiny spark of confidence was born, perhaps? It felt good to see what I could do. It is slow going; I find that I analyze every word as it comes out on the paper. But, I don't care, because I was very proud of the results.
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