Dolmadaen's End: Secrets of the Hidden Library - 2nd Annual FIction Competition

Suspended in chains blackened by the light of a long dead sun, Brother Dolmadaen was paraded through the nightmare palisades and highways of Commoragh, his impassive gaze taking in the jeering crowds and jealous aristocrats that watched his passage. "Filth", he thought "I will tear their city down around them." He caught the eye of Sergeant Thackary, a PDF trooper also captured by these slavers. Dolmadaen nodded to the sergeant grimly, as if to reassure him that they would once more walk under Holden's sun.

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The third arm of Kelthis swept deep to the ground as he humbled himself before the Archon. "Of course, Lord Scionus," he prickled slightly at the implied insult, "I have never failed you before, have I? Why should this brute be any different than the other mon-keigh? He may be Astartes now, but three moons hence, he will be yours."

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Three moons had long passed, and  Dolmadaen remained unbowed. In that time he had neither slept nor eaten, but he did not care. Every time he was stung by a whip or saw at the hands of Kelthis he would smirk, despite the open wounds that wept blood and pus. He sang the battle hymns of the Achaen Lions until his lips were sewn shut with his own hamstrings. Still, he smiled to see Kelthis; nothing seemed to enrage the Haemonculus more. Time and again Dolmadaen was injected with some arcane serum to dull his senses and weaken his will, all the while the sawing and flensing continued. The psychoconditioning of his uplift was sufficient to keep him sane, to remind him that he walked in the light of the Emperor. Even as the flesh was stripped from him, he felt nothing but resolve to free himself and the captive PDF troopers. This was his strength, his honour and his duty as Astartes.

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Kelthis was running out of time. Scionus had already sent several reminders in the form of dismembered wracks; his patience ebbed, and he wanted the Astartes broken. All of the serums, potions and drugs, all of the slicing, snapping and burning  was for nothing. No matter what Kelthis did to him, Dolmadaen's mind remained strong in the ruin of his body. A thought occured, and he summoned an assistant. "Bring me the sergeant from the Arena; I hear he's somehow still alive, and I want him here."  

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Dolmadaen's eye widened as he saw Thackary again. Gone was the taciturn warrior from Holden, and in his place was a cold-eyed killer. Thakary's breath came heavy through his clenched teeth. "There is no light in the Dark City, not even His", whispered Thackary as his knife started to carve into the ruin of Dolmadaen's cheek.  "You didn't save us, and neither can He", Thackary hissed. A shudder wracked Dolmadaen's body as he went limp in his restraints.

Kelthis summoned his assistant once more. "Run to Scionus' tower and inform him that his newest Talos will await him very, very shortly."

I think the coolest thing you decided to do was a goal of *not* using the theme word in the story while still having the story be about the theme word. it was a bold move and I think you pulled it off well. On top of it, you went for a more positive meaning of the word pride, which was an unlikely choice. Very clever!