WARHAMMER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. I HAVE TO WONDER, DO THE AELDARI LOOK AT THE NORMANDY'S STEALTH CAPABILITIES AND LAUGH? I BET THEY LAUGH.

Let's go see the Blood Angels! It'll be a Baal!

… I'll show myself out.

Star-Bound

Chapter 12

Shadows

The mausoleum of Sanguinius was radiant, decorated with gold, gemstones, and the finest artwork the Blood Angels of old could fashion to celebrate their Primarch's life. It was a stark contrast to the dark mood that settled upon any of the Angel's sons if they entered to gaze upon his body, trapped within its stasis-casket.

However, to the one who beheld the body of an angel that fell at the hand of a demigod, there was no grief. Rather, there was no change in his grief; for millennia, he had been consumed by it, and seeing the results of a tragedy he had already known about did not diminish or darken his black humors.

"It does not end," he said to the body of his brother, and though the mausoleum was meant to carry echoes high in reverence, his voice carried no such echo. "I have traveled this galaxy to slay the foes of mankind, and I have taken Father's vengeance to the very gates of His enemies, and yet I feel no satisfaction. Is there even any point?"

The corpse did not give an answer, not that one was expected.

"Of all of us, I wish you had been the one to survive," he continued. "You brought hope in the darkest of times, where I only brought vengeance and grief. If there was truly any justice in the galaxy, it would be my body lying in state on Deliverance, and you would be governing the Imperium with a righteous hand." There was a dry chuckle. "Instead, everything we fought for has turned to ash and half-forgotten legends. Even the return of Roboute has only slowed our enemies' progress. You might not have matched his penchant for strategy, but you would have stoked the fires, not simply hold them in place."

He bowed his head and looked down at his hands; his claws were still slick with alien blood.

"At least both of you had something to offer the wider Imperium. What do I offer? Nothing but regret and the promise of retribution." He looked back up at the slain angel. "The Imperium needs you at Roboute's side, brother; you, Rogal, Lion, even Jaghatai. Not me. There is nothing I offer. Only death."

…

The Vehemence tore out of the Warp like a hot knife through butter. As always, Shepard's flagship had forged a new path for the Crusade, and for the Imperium. Unlike many of their travels, the fleet arrived to see hundreds of guns that were ostensibly on their side aimed right at them.

"Transmit our allegiance!" Dartan barked as alarms screamed. "Raise void shields, but do not open fire!"

Shepard, still pale after struggling to keep the ship safe from the Warp, raised an eyebrow as she watched the fleet of red-painted warships move to intercept them. "A bit of an overreaction, isn't it?"

"The Blood Angels were mauled during the war here not long ago," Dartan reminded her. "If anything, I am surprised they didn't fire on us immediately."

"I applaud their restraint," Shepard drawled. "Have they recognized that we're on the same side yet?"

A bridge officer bowed in her direction, though the woman's action was odd, since long cables connected her shaved scalp into the floor. "They have confirmed that we are loyal servants of the God-Emperor, Your Holiness. The noble Blood Angels demand that a representative of the Crusade transfer to the Battle Barge Blade of Vengeance."

Dartan frowned. "Honored Chapter or not, security or not, their demand is unusual and borders on insulting. Naval protocol dictates that parties from both fleets should meet at neutral ground to prevent an unneeded battle. Your Holiness, what would you have us do?"

Shepard closed her eyes; she wasn't one to back down in a confrontation, but she preferred avoiding bloodshed amongst friendly forces.

"Transmit to the Blood Angels that I will be meeting their own representative personally," she said, her voice full of iron. "Also, tell them that I will bring my own security force. This is non-negotiable."

A few minutes later, the same bridge officer bowed again. "They have accepted these terms. No more than five bodyguards will be present on either side."

Shepard nodded. "All right, let's get this over with."

…

Even from a distance, the Blade of Vengeance had clearly seen better days. Shepard could see half-repaired rents in her hull, enormous dents, and she suspected that many of the ship's secondary weapons had been knocked offline. Still, her tiny shuttle was no match for the venerable warship, and it felt like she was entering the maw of a titanic beast as she flew into the launch bay.

Though she didn't show it, Shepard was nervous; the Blood Angels were one of the most lauded Chapters of Astartes in the Imperium, credited with so many victories that it would have taken her years to read them all. However, the Blood Angels and their successors were also infamous for uncontrollable slaughter at times, as much a danger to friends as foes.

She was glad that her escort was as good at keeping their own emotions in check. Rather than take members of the Alexian Guard, she had asked Zandtus to loan her a few Necropolis Hawks. When the Alexian Guard had protested, she explained that the Blood Angels might be more receptive to fellow Space Marines, even if they were from a different lineage; with tensions so high, she wanted to do everything she could to defuse the situation. In the end, the Alexian Guard had accepted her reasoning, and Zandtus had assigned Captain Torlim and a quartet of Aggressors as her escort.

"Have you ever met the Blood Angels before, Captain?" Shepard asked as the servitor-piloted shuttle began to land.

"No, Saint Shepard, but I did fight alongside one of their successors during the Indomitus Crusade," Torlim said. "The Knights of the Chalice—Primaris, like my own Chapter. They fought well, with no sign of the rumors surrounding their founding Chapter."

"Well, I have nothing better to go on, so tell me—what were the Knights of the Chalice like?"

"A little on the taciturn side, I suppose, but eager to prove themselves. That was over a century ago, by my reckoning, so they might have changed."

Shepard sighed. "Lack of communication and updates on statuses is such a pain." As the shuttle finished landing, she stood up. "Well, time to meet our hosts."

The ramp on the shuttle lowered with a hiss, and Torlim led the way down, followed by the Aggressors. Shepard went after them, doing her best not to be overwhelmed when she saw who was waiting for them.

From everything she had read, Shepard had expected the Blood Angels to have armor the color of blood. She wasn't expecting the half-dozen Space Marines to be armored in gold; none of them were Primaris Marines, but their armor was exquisite, as were the weapons they carried. Aside from the winged jump packs, their armor was sculpted to make them look like gold-painted humans; the carried massive power swords or axes in one hand, and had modified bolters attached to one forearm.

In front of his bodyguards was a Space Marine of such regal bearing that Shepard briefly wondered if she was meeting an actual angel. His armor was no more ornate than his fellows, though the helm he wore was sculpted to show an exquisite death mask. His jump pack wasn't winged, and his axe was slightly less ornate, but the aura of command that surrounded him was enough to convince Shepard of who he was.

Shepard brought her hands up in the sign of the Aquila and bowed her head. "Greetings, Commander Dante. It's an honor to meet you."

Dante, Chapter Master of the Blood Angels and Lord Commander of Imperium Nihilus, nodded in return. "Greetings, Saint Shepard. Forgive the abruptness of this meeting, but there is much to do, and little time to do it."

"I understand," Shepard said. "We'll try to cause as little trouble for you as possible, and if you need anything, we'll do our best to provide."

Dante nodded again. "That would be greatly appreciated, on both counts. Now, what brings you to Baal?"

"We came here because we're looking for someone," Shepard said. "A Primarch, to be specific."

It was impossible to read Dante's expression behind his helm, but Shepard was positive he was frowning. "There is only one Primarch on Baal, and he has been dead for over ten thousand years."

Shepard just shrugged. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but we're looking for a different Primarch, Corvus Corax, and he's very much alive. No idea what he's doing here, but we've been tracking him for five years."

Dante tilted his head in the direction of Torlim. "Necropolis Hawks; successors of the Raven Guard, if I am not mistaken."

Torlim bowed as much as his bulky armor permitted. "You are correct, Lord Dante. My Chapter believes that we are indeed searching for our gene-sire, and our path has taken us here."

For a moment, Dante was silent. "What would the Raven Lord want on the home of his lost brother?"

When Torlim said nothing, Shepard stepped forward. "I can't say I know the mind of a Primarch, but maybe he's here to pay his respects?" She hesitated, then kept speaking. "When my sister died, I visited her tomb as often as I could."

The Necropolis Hawks' reaction was minute, but it was still noticeable by the Blood Angels. Shepard had never spoken of her personal life before becoming a Living Saint, so this was the first anyone in the Crusade had heard of her having family. They didn't know that Eliza was Shepard's adopted sister, but it had been many decades since Shepard had included the 'adopted' part.

None of that mattered to Dante, whose hand drifted to his axe. "Tread carefully; Saint or not, it is unwise to presume anything about the Primarchs, especially the Angel."

Surprising the Necropolis Hawks further, Shepard knelt. "I'm sorry for any offense, but I can't think of any other reason why Corax would be here. I'll hand over my weapons, but I would like to visit Sanguinius' resting place."

By the time Shepard blinked, Dante had crossed the distance between them, and his axe rested against her throat. Torlim had his power sword out and poised to strike at Dante, while the Aggressors and Sanguinary Guard aimed their guns at each other.

"You ask much, woman," Dante hissed. "I know nothing about you, other than that you claim to be a vessel for the Emperor's power, just like every other so-called Saint. You could be an agent of Chaos in disguise, sent to defile the body of my Primarch. It has been attempted before, but so long as I live, it shall not happen again!"

Shepard slowly raised one hand, and gestured for the Necropolis Hawks to stand down. She never broke eye contact with Dante, and waited until her escorts had lowered their weapons before speaking again.

"You're right. You have no reason to believe me. If I was in your position, I'd be skeptical, too. So, how about a compromise? I'll wait outside, and you go see if someone managed to sneak in. I imagine that if anyone could make it past your security, it would be Corvus Corax. If I'm right, I would appreciate being allowed to speak to him; if I'm wrong… well, it wouldn't be the first time."

Dante was still for a long moment, but then lowered his axe. "Very well. We shall see if anything has disturbed the Angel's resting place. If you are wrong, I will personally remove your head, and those of all your followers for attempting to desecrate the Angel."

Shepard only raised an eyebrow. "That sounds fair."

At any other point in her life, Shepard might have considered a backup plan. Very rarely did she put all her faith in a single course of action, even if there was only one course of action. Yet, ever since arriving in the system, Shepard felt the Emperor nudging her to follow this path, assuring her that what she was doing was right. Even though there were things in His path that she thought were mistakes—and when she'd spoken to Revelation about that, He had agreed—the Emperor had sworn to her that He would only guide her to the goals that she wanted to achieve. It just so happened that they both wanted the same thing.

Dante looked deep into her eyes; whatever he saw in them was apparently satisfactory, because he stepped back. "You will be prepared before landing on Baal. Only the most humble of mortals may enter the mausoleum."

…

Six hours later, Shepard stood outside a massive structure; painted red and chased with gold, the mausoleum was the largest building for miles around. Considering how beloved Sanguinius was to the Imperium, it seemed appropriate. However, there was a hint of disapproval from the Emperor in her mind; perhaps the Angel would have preferred something more humble in death.

Shepard glanced down at herself. Speaking of humble…

The Blood Angels had been very strict regarding her appearance and conduct upon reaching the mausoleum. Gone were her armor and weapons, kept safe in the shuttle that had taken them all to the surface. Instead, she wore simple red robes, and her braid was undone, leaving her hair to fly freely in the evening breeze.

The Necropolis Hawks had been allowed to keep their weapons and armor—both because the Blood Angels had no right to demand fellow Space Marines to remove their wargear, and because they were still charged with protecting Shepard.

"Wait here," Dante commanded, and walked to the doors of the mausoleum. The Sanguinary Guard remained behind, to keep watch over their visitors.

"This is an outrage," Torlim growled; he knew the Blood Angels could hear him, but he clearly didn't care. "You have led armies and saved so many worlds. You should not have to suffer this indignity."

Shepard patted his left arm, the one wearing a massive boltstorm gauntlet. It was even more ridiculous to see, given her current appearance. "I've suffered worse. This is an inconvenience to us, but it's a big deal to them."

Torlim nodded, and though he wore a helmet, Shepard could tell he was still upset. During the Crusade, the Necropolis Hawks had become almost as devoted to her as the Sororitas. Part of it was because Shepard was seeking Corvus Corax, but she had also earned their loyalty through so many battles, and treated them as respected colleagues and friends, rather than the fearful reverence that made so many Astartes uncomfortable.

"Let's just be patient," she said. "One way or another, we'll be done here soon."

…

Dante did not need to be a psyker to know that something was wrong as soon as the doors closed behind him. Though the mausoleum was as bright and beautiful as ever, there was an oppressive darkness that had nothing to do with the grief in his soul that came from being there. There was also the matter that the Sanguinary Guards who kept watch over this sacred place were nowhere to be found—a more practical warning that had him ready to lock down the entire planet.

And then there was the smell; the sons of Sanguinius had a deep connection with blood, and even through his helmet's filters, he could smell it in the air. It was fresh xenos blood—Ork, he was sure—as well as older blood. Human, he decided after a moment.

Something was here.

"Show yourself," he demanded, his voice almost feral in its fury. "I will suffer no trespass here."

"You are quite presumptuous, little nephew," came a voice. It was tired, but regal—the voice of a king who had become overburdened with duty and loss. "I have as much right to be here as any of the Ninth Legion. No, wait… you are a Chapter now. It would explain why there were so few of you to guard this place. Do not worry, they still live; I simply made them sleep for a while."

Dante activated the power field on the Axe Mortalis and raised it high. His anger was rising, and with it, he could feel the Black Rage slowly uncoil within the cage of his willpower. "I will not repeat myself: reveal yourself!"

"You will have to turn around, first." This time, the voice came from behind him, and Dante whirled. He had his axe raised, but as soon as he turned, he froze.

Out of the shadows stepped a figure of legend. He was huge, easily dwarfing Dante; his black armor seemed to flicker in and out of the shadows, like a candle's flame held next to a bonfire. His hair was long and unkempt, and his beard was shaggy; his armor, while crafted to a standard rarely seen in the current age, was pitted and cracked. Only his enormous lightning claws, constructed around his forearms to give his hands freedom of movement, were unblemished; they gleamed with the promise of a swift death.

The Raven Lord was not celebrated like the Angel, but Dante had seen his image in records, and there was no mistaking the symbol that dotted his armor. With only a moment's hesitation, he fell to one knee.

"Lord Corax," he said quietly. "It is an honor."

"Please, rise," Corax ordered. "I have had my fill of kneeling warriors who have earned far more honor than I."

Reluctantly, Dante stood. "My Lord, the Imperium has long awaited your return, but with you and Lord Guilliman, perhaps—"

Corax held up one hand to silence the Chapter Master. "That is not my purpose. Not now, and perhaps never." He turned to gaze upon the corpse of his brother. "No, I have been following the path of vengeance; it is one with no visible end, but it is a penance that I must bear. But… perhaps you can help me, while I am here."

Dante resisted the urge to kneel once more, still in shock; after all, he was the first Astartes in thousands of years to have claimed that he had spoken with two loyal Primarchs.

"Anything, Lord."

"I will admit that I do not know why my path brought me here," Corax said, almost ruefully. "In truth, I first thought that I had been granted a reprieve, to visit my fallen brother and reflect on my actions. But I sense that my purpose here is not yet done."

A thought came to Dante, and he cautiously voiced it. "With respect, Lord Corax, I may know. There is a mortal outside this place, a woman, who came here searching for you; she even claimed that coming to visit the Angel would help in her quest."

Corax regarded him; he looked as surprised as a Primarch was capable of appearing. "I have been sought by many, including my own sons, but never has one come so close." He turned back to Sanguinius for a moment. "Bring her here. I will speak to her alone… and remove your guards from the interior."

Now, Dante almost refused; never before had the Angel's body been left unguarded. However, he reluctantly admitted that few beings could be more capable of protecting something than a Primarch.

"As you wish, Lord Corax."

…

Shepard's patience finally paid off; after waiting for what seemed like an eternity, the doors to the mausoleum opened once again. She was surprised when Dante emerged, not by himself or with a living Primarch, but dragging the unconscious bodies of two Sanguinary Guards.

"There are more of your brothers inside who must be brought out," he said to the Astartes guarding the visitors. "Bring them here and tend to their injuries." He held up his hand when the other Sanguinary Guards looked ready to do battle. "The Angel is in no danger, I assure you."

"Is there anything we can do?" Shepard asked politely.

Dante gave her a flat stare, his expression concealed by his death mask. He seemed to be considering what to say next.

"Once this task is done, you will be allowed inside. That is all I can say."

Beside her, Torlim and the other Necropolis Hawks tensed; Shepard turned to them and gave them her best smile.

"I'll be back," she promised. "Either with a Primarch, or our next clue."

Torlim nodded reluctantly. "As you say. I do not wish to sound impatient, or ungrateful, but I hope you hurry."

"We've been at this for five years," Shepard said. "I think we can afford a little longer."

Once the unconscious Sanguinary Guards were recovered, Shepard walked inside as calmly as she could. For all her projected confidence, she was more than a little nervous. When the doors closed, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness; she followed the path until she found two demigods.

The first was glorious, even in death. Sanguinius' golden armor had been repaired, right down to the rubies dotting every plate. His beautiful white wings curled around him, almost like an embrace; his expression was sad—which was unacceptable on a face so perfect—but also strangely content.

The second was almost totally eclipsed by his brother's light. He was weary and battered, but he was determined to carry on. Shepard recognized that in herself—to give up now would be to spit on every sacrifice made on her behalf.

"I envy him, in a way," Corax said, not looking at her; he maintained a steady gaze upon Sanguinius. "He is no longer burdened by the darkness that creeps ever deeper into the soul of Mankind."

Shepard cautiously walked next to the Raven Lord. "What would he do if he was here now?"

"Oh, he would fight, and he would lead." Corax chuckled; it sounded like dead leave brushing against each other. "He would never let the weight of his position show—he was obsessed with being a beacon of hope for everyone."

"Not you, though," Shepard said.

"No. Not me." Corax glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. "I was always meant for the shadows, to cut the throats of our enemies, so that those like Sanguinius and Guilliman would remain untainted. I never sought glory."

"Neither did I," Shepard said. "When I started out, I just wanted to help people, to keep what happened to my family from happening to anyone else. But then I found myself leading people, and doing the things no one else would, because no one else thought the true enemy was real. When they were finally defeated, I thought I was done, but I wasn't; I kept fighting until my new home was safe. I had friends and family… and then they died, too."

"Tragedy is a constant companion for those who fight in war," Corax said.

"Most of them died of old age," Shepard replied. "And when I grew old, I thought I would join them. Instead of letting me have my peace, I was brought here, and the Emperor gave me a new mission."

Corax scoffed. "And what lesson does my father have for me, Saint?"

"Oh, He never gave me any message," Shepard said. "He just wanted me to find you. Everything else is all me.

"Sometimes, what we think is our destination is just one more step along the way. Sometimes, we get so caught up in what we've lost that we can't move forward on our own. Sometimes… we need someone to help us take that next step." Shepard moved between Corax and his fallen brother. "You said it yourself: Sanguinius wouldn't have stopped. I can tell how much you respect him, so can you do any less? The Imperium needs another champion, Corvus Corax; just because you're a blade in the dark doesn't mean you can't come into the light."

Corax stared at her with dark, unblinking eyes. "Who are you?"

Shepard was tiny in comparison, but she met his gaze without flinching. "I am Alexia Shepard. I've lived three lives, I've watched a galaxy burn, and I've lost two families. I've had my soul broken apart, and I've come back from the dead. I've been a hero in three different galaxies, and trust me when I say that I know how badly people need their heroes.

"You've lost so much in your own life. Your brothers betrayed you or died, your Legion was massacred and then broken up, and the dream your father left behind has been twisted beyond recognition. Now, more than ever, people need not just a hero, they need one who has looked into the abyss, and didn't blink."

Corax's eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs. "You have a way with words."

Shepard grinned playfully. "Would you believe that I came up with that whole speech just now?"

"Sanguinius would do that," Corax said. "None of his sons ever believed that he made it up on the spot." He turned his gaze back to the Angel. "I have spent ten millennia seeking vengeance, with only my claws and my conviction for company. Perhaps… perhaps I can do more if I step out of the shadows and lead once more."

Shepard's heart filled with hope, but as she took a step forward, Corax vanished; it took her a moment to realize that he had moved so fast that her eyes had been unable to track him. Then there was a bang from a bolt pistol, and the sound of an impact of a bolt shell on armor.

"You think to strike from my domain?" Corax asked, his voice full of outrage; he had placed himself between Shepard and her attacker, and was glaring into the darkness.

"Only at one who would disrupt my plans," a deep voice said.

Shepard peeked around Corax to see a Space Marine step into the light. His black armor was ancient, and covered by a cream-colored hooded cloak. He carried a smoking bolt pistol in one hand, and a plasma pistol in the other; slung over his back was a magnificent sword.

"I recognize your lineage," Corax growled as he activated his lightning claws. "What does a son of the Lion want here?"

"To end the cycle," the Space Marine said calmly. "It begins with the fall of angels."

Shepard was moving even before the pistols shifted to aim at Sanguinius. Corax blocked the plasma with only a scorch on his shoulder, but Shepard took a bolt shell to the right leg. She screamed as the shell detonated, blowing apart her leg in a fountain of blood and bone; Corax effortlessly caught her before she hit the floor, but when he turned back, the Dark Angel was gone.

The doors to the mausoleum slammed open; Dante rushed in, followed by Sanguinary Guards and the Necropolis Hawks.

"What has happened?" Dante demanded.

"An assassin came to defile my brother's resting place," Corax said tersely. "I can sense that he is gone, saved by powers not unlike my own; he is far from here, I assure you. However, this woman needs…"

Corax trailed off as golden light poured from what was left of Shepard's leg; in minutes, the limb was whole and unblemished.

"Yeah," she said tiredly, "that happens sometimes."

There was a loud clang that caught everyone's attention; the Blood Angels turned, ready to fight, but it was only Torlim, who had dropped his sword and was now staring at Corax in awe. For his part, the Raven Lord gently helped Shepard to her feet, and then strode over to the Primaris Marines.

"I would recognize my gene-sons anywhere," the Primarch whispered, almost to himself, as he inspected the Necropolis Hawks. "But your appearance… impossible. The Raptors Program was a failure. Who are you, and what is your Chapter's name? I remember no successors like you."

Torlim took a shaky breath. "My Lord, we are the Necropolis Hawks, successors to the Raven Guard, of the Ultima Founding. I know not what the Raptors Program is—we are Primaris Astartes, the next generation of Space Marines, sanctioned by Lord Guilliman and pioneered by Archmagos Belisarius Cawl. We are your gene-sons, and we have been searching for you."

Corax stared into Torlim's eyes for a long time. "If there was ever a sign that I should return…" he smirked. "No son of mine has seen me since my departure from Deliverance, yet, here you stand, asking for me to step into the light once more."

"It's like I said." Shepard gingerly stepped forward. "Sometimes, we need someone to give us that push."

"It would seem that you are right." Corax put a hand on Torlim's shoulder. "What is your name and rank, my son?"

"Arquevan Torlim, Captain of the Necropolis Hawks' Third Company."

"Is the rest of your Chapter here?"

"They are in orbit, with the rest of the Shepard Crusade, my Lord."

Corax nodded. "Very well. Long has it been since I fought alongside my gene-sons; it is time for my absence to end."

…

As was their right as his gene-sons, the Necropolis Hawks were the first to greet the Primarch in an official capacity. While Dante ordered that the mysterious intruder be searched for, he escorted Corax, Shepard, and the Necropolis Hawks to the Black Necropolis. There, the entire Chapter had assembled in the ship's hangar to witness Corax's return.

As soon as the ramp of the Thunderhawk lowered and Corax stepped out, a thousand Primaris Marines knelt as one.

"My Lord Corax," Zandtus said, barely able to maintain his composure, "I am Raquilon Zandtus, Chapter Master of the Necropolis Hawks. It is an honor beyond words to meet you at last."

"Rise, my sons," Corax said, with the patience of someone who had been through this many times. "Now is not the time for ceremony. I have returned to you, and to the Imperium, because I am needed. However, no longer can I wage this war alone; will you fight with me?"

Zandtus did nothing to hide his tears as he and his Chapter rose. "Always and forever, my liege."

Corax nodded; Shepard, now armed and armored, noticed that the Primarch was quickly getting used to commanding once more.

"From what Saint Shepard has told me, the first part of her quest is over; I ask only that the Shepard Crusade come with me to Deliverance, and then to Ultramar. All of my sons will know of my return, as will my brother; after that, I will place myself under Guilliman's command, and we will strike down the Emperor's foes!" Corax turned to Dante. "Nephew, would that I could stay and help you secure this sector, but I must speak to my brother."

Dante shook his head. "Lord Corax, I am not worthy to command a Primarch's attention; all I ask is that you convey a message to Lord Commander Guilliman, asking for additional forces."

"It shall be done," Corax said, and Shepard almost smiled when he used her Crusade's motto. "Expect many of your future campaigns to be easier; you'll find that your enemies' leaders have been cut down before you make planetfall."

Dante was about to thank him, but something caught his attention on his vox; when he turned back to the Primarch and the Saint, he was clearly agitated.

"We have a new problem," he said.

Shepard couldn't hold back her groan. "Of course we do."

"An enormous fleet has arrived at the Mandeville Point. They bear the signature of the Dark Angels, and many of their successors… and they are demanding that we surrender."

"Um…" Shepard held up one hand. "Is anyone else confused?"

Yay, I'm back to this one! No idea why it took me so long for a chapter that wasn't that big. I hope you liked it; I had a lot of fun with the dialogue between Shepard and Corax. Yeah, Corax has been alive a hell of a lot longer than Shepard, but Shep has been through much more than a mortal has any right to bear. Also, she's got a bit of the Emperor's soul in her now, so she probably has an instinctive idea of how to deal with Corax.

And yes, that was Cypher, here to do inexplicable things again. This time, he's drawn the Legion-in-all-but-name, the Dark Angels and Friends, to Baal. This should be fun, right? Shepard hasn't had to fight fellow Imperial forces yet, and what's a 40K story without internecine warfare?

As always, please consider purchasing my book, Alpha Sanction, by Josh Gottlieb, either on Amazon, or my website (link in my profile). Remember, if I get sales, it brings me just a little closer to being able to write fan fiction all the time!

Another way you all can help is by donating on P-atreon (also a link in my profile). Seriously, people who do either option get mad Muffin points. Here's a list of those who earned enough of those metaphorical points:

Serious Muffins: CrazySith87, jafr86, SpaceEmperorSpar, Nimrod009, Anders Lyngbye, Krisjanis Jansons, Matthias Matanovic, ChaosSpartan575, Alexis Troy, John Collins, Calleo, Casey Pak, Red Bard, Ultimatrix10

Incredible Muffins: RaptorusMaximus, michaelb958, Crazyman844, Jaeger456, killroy225, Brian McGloughlin

Ultra Muffins: Adam Costello, Jeffrey Perigo, Matthew Bunting, RangersRoll

Next Chapter: In the heavens above Baal, Angels clash, while a Saint and a demigod race to unmask the one behind it all.

By the blood of the Muffin, the Angels have come!