Hello and thank you for reading! The prologue act will consist of chapters one and two. Chapter three will begin act one. Buckle up! We're in for a hell of a ride.

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The Bridge Between

Prologue Act: Fractured Stars

Chapter 1: At Peace Among the Stars

1749 hours, December 10th, 2186 CE

The Heart of the Citadel

Shepard sat in silence, her back pressed against the cold metal wall of the Citadel's core. Blood pooled beneath her, dark and thick, but the pain had faded to a distant throb. Her armor was shattered, cracked in a dozen places where Harbinger's beam had nearly torn her apart. Each breath came with effort, a wet, rattling sound that she tried to ignore.

Through the vast windows surrounding the chamber, stars blazed against the void. The battle for Earth—for the galaxy—raged on, brilliant flashes of weapons fire illuminating the darkness. Alliance dreadnoughts exchanged devastating salvos with Reaper capital ships. Fighters darted between larger vessels like schools of fish, their formation breaking and reforming with practiced precision.

A turian cruiser streaked past, its hull scorched black in places but still fighting. Shepard's fingers twitched, muscle memory reaching for weapons that weren't there. She should be out there. Commander Shepard belonged in the thick of battle, not bleeding out in this sterile chamber while others fought and died.

"Some commander I turned out to be," she whispered, her voice barely audible even to herself.

Three years. It had been just three years since Eden Prime, since she'd touched that Prothean beacon and everything had changed. Three years since the weight of an entire galaxy had settled onto her shoulders. The great Commander Shepard. Humanity's first Spectre. The woman who would save them all.

Sometimes, in her darkest moments, she wished it had been someone else. Anyone else. Let them carry this burden, make these impossible choices, live with the consequences. Let them decide which civilizations lived and which died. Let them watch friends fall and keep moving forward because there was no other choice.

But then, would she have trusted anyone else to make the calls she'd made? To save the Destiny Ascension despite the risk to Alliance forces? To destroy the Collector base rather than preserve it? To cure the genophage, broker peace between quarians and geth, make the thousand other decisions that had led to this moment?

No. As much as she sometimes resented the responsibility, she couldn't imagine entrusting it to another.

Her gaze drifted to Anderson, slumped beside her, his eyes open but seeing nothing. Blood had dried on his lips and chin, stark against his dark skin. His chest was still, the rise and fall of breath forever stilled.

"I'm sorry, Anderson," she murmured, reaching out with trembling fingers to close his eyes. "I wasn't fast enough. Wasn't strong enough."

He looked peaceful now, the pain and struggle erased from his features. She hoped he'd found some measure of peace in those final moments, knowing they'd made it this far together.

"You did good, child. You did good. I'm proud of you."

His last words echoed in her mind. She'd spent her career trying to make him proud, to live up to the example he'd set. And in the end, he'd called her "child"—not in a diminutive way, but with the deep affection of a mentor who had watched her grow from a promising young officer into the leader who would save them all. The recognition of a warrior who'd fought the good fight and earned his deepest respect.

Darkness crept at the edges of her vision. It would be so easy to let go, to slip away and join Anderson, Mordin, Thane, Legion, and all the others who'd fallen along the way. Her body felt impossibly heavy, her eyelids drooping despite her efforts to keep them open.

"Shepard? Commander!"

Hackett's voice crackled from her omni-tool, startling her back to consciousness. The admiral sounded desperate, his usual composure fraying at the edges.

"Nothing's happening. The Crucible isn't activating. It must be something on your end."

Shepard's eyes snapped open. The Crucible. The last hope for the galaxy. It wasn't working.

She looked toward the central console, a gleaming panel perhaps twenty feet away. It might as well have been twenty miles. Her legs wouldn't respond, and when she tried to push herself up, white-hot pain lanced through her abdomen. Something vital was damaged inside her—she could feel it, a wrongness that transcended ordinary injury.

"I'm on it," she gasped into her omni-tool, though she wasn't sure Hackett could even hear her.

Twenty feet. She could crawl that far. She'd dragged herself out of the rubble of the original Citadel. She'd clawed her way back from death itself after the Collectors destroyed the first Normandy. Twenty feet was nothing.

Shepard rolled onto her stomach, biting back a scream as broken ribs shifted inside her. She dug her fingers into the metal floor and pulled herself forward, leaving a smear of blood in her wake. Each movement was agony, each inch gained a victory against her failing body.

"Come on," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Just a little further."

She thought of Earth burning below her. Of Palaven, Thessia, Rannoch—all the worlds counting on her to finish this. Her mother's face, stern but proud when she'd enlisted. Her father's laugh, warm and full, from the rare times they'd had shore leave together. Her crew—her family—on the Normandy gathered around the mess table, sharing stories and drinks before the final push.

Of Garrus.

Garrus, who'd stood beside her through everything. Who'd believed in her when she'd stopped believing in herself. Who'd promised to meet her at that bar if things went sideways.

"Not yet," she grunted, dragging herself another few inches. "Not ready to meet you there yet, Vakarian."

But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. Her strength was fading with each passing second, her body shutting down system by system. She'd lost too much blood, sustained too much damage. The Crucible would be her last act—she'd accepted that the moment she'd ordered Garrus back onto the Normandy.

Ten feet to go. Her vision swam, reality blurring at the edges. The console seemed to waver, as if viewed through water.

"You can do this," she told herself, Garrus's voice overlapping with her own in her mind. "You've never backed down from a fight before."

Five feet. Her arms trembled violently, muscles pushed beyond endurance. Each breath was a battle, her lungs struggling to draw in enough oxygen.

Three feet. She collapsed, her forehead pressed against the cold floor. Just a moment's rest, that was all she needed. Just a moment to gather what remained of her strength.

"Get up, Shepard." This time it was Anderson's voice, as clear as if he stood beside her. "That's an order, soldier."

One final push. She reached out, her bloodied fingers stretching toward the base of the console. With a desperate lunge, she caught hold of its edge and pulled herself the last few inches.

The console loomed above her, its control panel a dizzying array of lights and symbols. Shepard gripped its edge and hauled herself upward, her legs useless beneath her. She leaned heavily against it, fighting to stay conscious as her vision darkened and brightened in pulsing waves.

The panel swam before her eyes, its controls blurring into meaningless patterns. She blinked hard, trying to focus, but her brain refused to make sense of what she was seeing. Too much blood loss. Too much trauma. Her cognitive functions were shutting down along with the rest of her body.

But there—in the center of the panel—a button pulsed with steady light. Something about it seemed right, seemed to call to her. With the last of her strength, Shepard raised her hand and brought it down on the control.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the floor beneath her feet began to vibrate, a low hum that quickly rose in pitch and intensity. Light flooded the chamber, not the harsh white of the Citadel's illumination but a warm, golden glow that seemed to emanate from the very walls.

The Crucible was activating.

Shepard's legs finally gave way completely, and she slid down the console to the floor. The vibration had become a violent shaking now, the entire Citadel seeming to resonate with unleashed energy.

She thought of Garrus. Pictured his face—not scarred and weary as she'd last seen him, but as he'd looked on their final night together. Mandibles spread in that turian smile she'd come to love, eyes bright with a hope neither of them had dared voice aloud. She'd memorized every plate, every marking, knowing it might be the last time.

At least he would live. The thought brought a peace she hadn't expected. Garrus would survive, would help rebuild whatever remained after the Reapers were gone. And someday, when his time finally came, she'd be waiting at that bar they'd talked about. Watching the door. Ready to welcome him home.

"I love you," she whispered, though there was no one left to hear.

The shaking intensified, metal groaning around her as the Citadel channeled more power than it was ever designed to contain. Shepard closed her eyes, too exhausted to keep them open any longer. She wished she could see it—the moment when the Crucible's energy finally discharged, when the Reapers' reign of terror ended once and for all. It must be quite a sight. The greatest fireworks show in galactic history.

But it was enough to know it was happening. Enough to know she'd finished what she'd started on Eden Prime all those years ago.

The rumbling reached a crescendo, and Shepard felt a strange sensation—as if her very atoms were vibrating in sympathy with the Crucible's unleashed power. Heat washed over her, not painful but intense, like standing too close to a bonfire.

Then came a sound like nothing she'd ever heard before—a vast, thunderous roar that seemed to contain every frequency at once, from the deepest bass to the highest, most piercing treble. It filled her head, crowding out thought, drowning her consciousness in pure, overwhelming sensation.

And then—silence.

Darkness.

Peace.

Commander Shepard let go.