WARHAMMER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. CURRENTLY HIDING UNDER MY BED FROM THE INQUISITION, PLEASE SEND—OHGODTHEYFOUNDME!

I'm back from reeducation. The Inquisition is a wonderful group of people. I love the God-Emperor, and am unworthy of any special favors. It is my duty to report on His champion, Saint Shepard.

Why does my skull hurt?

Star-Bound

Chapter 14

Brothers

Shepard watched as artillery pounded the Unforgiven base. Her face was impassive, save for the occasional frown when a shell missed its intended target.

"They're being stubborn," she said, her voice barely heard over the roar of the Basilisks. The bombardment of the base—belonging to a successor Chapter called the Guardians of the Covenant—had been going on for almost an hour, but for the last twenty minutes, there had been no return fire. Shepard, however, was not feeling merciful, and ordered her soldiers to be extra-thorough.

"They're Dark Angels," Duchess-Colonel Riona replied. "If even half of the stories I've heard are true, they and their successors don't stop until they complete their mission, or they're dead."

"I just wish they'd be stubborn somewhere else, instead of starting wars with their own side." Shepard didn't even blink as the Guardians' armorium exploded with such force that she felt the shockwave even from her position. "That should be enough of a direct bombardment. Keep up the pressure until our infantry and tanks move in. I just hope this commander will finally see sense and surrender."

Riona smiled. "One can only hope, Your Holiness. Whatever the outcome, the First-Blooded will see it through."

Shepard rolled her eyes fondly at the nickname. The five regiments that had served with her on Prospero, the first full elements of the Crusade to fight with her on the ground, had been called the First-Blooded. They had an informal marking on their uniforms—five red teardrops; one for each regiment—that earned them instant respect with the other Militarum regiments, though new recruits weren't allowed to have them until they fought in a battle. Officially, it was against regulations, but Shepard allowed it, so no one had raised more than a token protest.

Of the many forces within her Crusade, Shepard always had the First-Blooded deployed together. She saw them as something of a good-luck charm, but also as a reminder for the rest of the Crusade—that as long as they all worked together, they would always be victorious. Since the First-Blooded had never even needed to retreat, it was a lesson that was often reinforced.

Under the cover of the artillery, Shepard led the tanks and infantry on a direct assault of the Astartes base. A few dozen Guardians of the Covenant fired as they advanced, but with four entire regiments marching straight at them, there was little they could do to stop the tide of flesh and steel. Within twenty minutes, what was left of the base was overrun, and the remaining Guardians called for a truce.

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't order my men to gun you down," Shepard said to the Guardians' commanding officer, a Lieutenant.

The Guardians of the Covenant had a wildly different color scheme than their progenitor Chapter. Their armor was silver, with white crossed swords over a field of black on their shoulders. Over their armor, they wore dark red robes.

In this case, the robes of the Lieutenant were shredded and burned; his armor was scorched and damaged from shrapnel, and he walked with a limp. To his credit, he had dropped his weapons and held out his hands.

"I must confess, you have every right to execute us," the Lieutenant said. "I know little of why we are attacking this place. Only the Company Masters would know, but to my eyes, we are attacking loyal servants of the Imperium. It disgusts me."

"At least you're honest." Shepard didn't ask why the Space Marine didn't protest the orders; while that was permitted in the Systems Alliance, such things got you killed in the Imperium. "All right, consider yourselves prisoners. Surrender your weapons and equipment, and we'll treat your wounded as best we can." When the Lieutenant hesitated, Shepard rolled her eyes. "I promise, we'll only store your stuff. When this is over, everything will be returned to you."

Seeing as how the Guardians of the Covenant had no way out at that point, they all agreed. Shepard called in the closest Blood Angel forces and informed them of the situation; they told her that the captives would be taken into custody.

All across Baal, similar battles were taking place. While the Unforgiven were fast, the Blood Angels knew their home, and had placed the Shepard Crusade in the best places to counter any incursion. Losses had been high at first, especially among the Militarum, but once word spread of Shepard's anger, flagging resolve had turned to outrage. Men and women fought with everything they had against the enemy that had dared earn their beloved Saint's wrath. Unable to break through the many cordons established by the Blood Angels, the Dark Angels and their successors had been forced to consolidate, which gave the defenders nice, juicy targets for counterattacks.

"Saint Shepard!" A vox operator from the Eleventh Vigilant Guard ran over and bowed. "We're receiving a transmission on an open frequency. It appears to be on a loop."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "All right, let's hear it."

The man handed over his vox, and Shepard held the receiver to her ear.

"All ships, all sons of the Lion, this is Supreme Grand Master Azrael, Chapter Master of the Dark Angels. My brothers… stand down. This battle is over. To all defenders of Baal… we surrender. Commander Dante, I would speak to you in person… there is much to discuss."

"Well, damn," Shepard said mildly. "Call everyone, I guess the war's over."

The Lieutenant, whose enhanced hearing had caught the message, tilted his head. "I suppose so. What happens to my brothers and I?"

Shepard gave him a dry look. "You heard him, he said you surrendered. That means you're still my prisoners until I say otherwise. You stay here, and you behave while I go see what's happening—if I find out you tried to so much as give my boys and girls a dirty look, I will personally have you launched into the sun."

Colonel Klinner, who had been nearby, chuckled dryly. "She'll do it, too. I watched it happen to an Aeldari that shot her friend."

The Space Marine was wearing his helmet, but the way he leaned away from Shepard was enough to tell her that he believed her.

Good, she thought as she signaled for a transport. Maybe I've found something that actually scares a Space Marine.

…

It took almost six hours for hostilities to cease in the Baal system. By then, four more Blood Angels successor Chapters had arrived to help take the Unforgiven fleet into custody. Leaders from all Chapters, as well as senior members of the Shepard Crusade were called to the Blood Angels fortress-monastery to discuss recent developments.

"You seem tense," Shepard commented as she sat down next to Blaise. "I mean, more tense than usual."

Blaise rested her chin on her clenched left fist—a silver bionic replacement for the hand she'd lost to an Aeldari sniper two years ago, whom Shepard had shunted into space upon capture—and scowled.

"I am uncomfortable in the presence of the Flesh Tearers."

Shepard glanced at Blaise, and then at Gabriel Seth, Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers. He wasn't a Primaris Marine, and he was a good head shorter than a Primaris Captain of the same Chapter that stood next to him. His armor, a deeper red with black shoulders and backpack, was covered in damage, and had clearly been repaired only to the point of functionality. Only his Chapter symbol, a drop of blood over a white circular sawblade, was clean. His shaved head was riddled with scars, and he carried a chainsword that was nearly as long as he was tall; the weapon was covered in dried blood.

"I'm probably going to regret asking this, but… why?"

"The Flesh Tearers are known to fall into berserker rages; during one such event, they slaughtered many of my sisters. I was not there, but I know the tale. When one of my sisters speaks ill of the Astartes, they are probably thinking of the Flesh Tearers."

Shepard gently bumped her shoulder against Blaise's. "One enemy at a time, Temperance; right now, we're angry at the Dark Angels."

"Of course." Blaise sat up. "Zandtus is here."

Shepard blinked; sure enough, the Chapter Master had arrived. "I turned away for ten seconds! How the hell does he do that?"

"He is a gene-son of Lord Corax," Blaise pointed out, with a hint of a smirk.

"Right." The door opened again, admitting a Space Marine that Shepard didn't recognize. "Who's that?"

Blaise frowned as she tried to remember. "If I am not mistaken, that is Malakim Phoros, Chapter Master of the Lamenters."

Shepard remembered that the Lamenters had appeared early in the battle, but she didn't recall them fighting on the ground. Since they hadn't, the state of Phoros' armor surprised her; his yellow plate was beautifully crafted, but it was scarred and marked by many battles. His Chapter's symbol, a bleeding heart over a black-and-white checkered field, was stained by smoke and dried blood.

The story of the Lamenters was a tragic one. Shepard had read about the Badab War, and how the Lamenters, a Chapter long plagued by misfortune and tragedy, had been unwitting pawns in service of a mad tyrant. Though they had fought against loyal Imperial elements, they had been given a chance to earn redemption through a century-long penitent crusade. That had been a long time ago, and though they had earned their place back in the Imperium's fold, they were still rebuilding, even with Primaris reinforcements.

Something Shepard noticed, though, was that Phoros felt different than anyone else in the room. While she was not a psyker, her powers had grown to the point that she could sense the influence of Chaos. At first, this had her on edge, but she realized that Phoros wasn't emanating the corruption; instead, it felt like it had been draped over him.

"Temperance, remind me to talk to him later," she muttered.

Blaise glanced between Shepard and Phoros. "Are you planning on adding some wayward souls to your Crusade, Your Holiness?"

"I wouldn't say no to more Space Marines," Shepard admitted, "but it feels like something is affecting him. Maybe I can help."

Blaise's organic eye narrowed, and then went wide at the unspoken implication. "If you wish to bless him, or even his entire Chapter, I am sure he would be grateful."

"That's not why I do these things." Shepard turned to the door again. "Okay, where the hell is Dante? He should have been here by now."

Seth, who had heard her last comment, chuckled; it sounded like broken bones scraping against each other. "You'll find that he prefers some drama to his entrances after a crisis. That, or he wants us all to get some rest without actually saying as much."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "There's plenty of time to rest later; right now, there's still work to do."

Seth grinned at her; it wasn't an attractive smile. "I think I like you, little Saint." His smile vanished as the door opened again. "Finally, he's here."

Shepard shared Seth's impatience, but now that Dante had arrived, maybe they could finally get things settled. She was surprised to see a Dark Angel—almost certainly Azrael—accompanying Dante; the Supreme Grand Master was unarmed, but he wasn't restrained, nor was he escorted by guards. Then again, even if he had been armed, he faced experienced warriors, and was badly outnumbered.

What Shepard hadn't expected was Corax to come in behind Azrael, along with the hooded Space Marine from before, and—

For a moment, everything froze; not because everyone else was as shocked as she was, though that was true, but because a familiar voice shot through her mind.

That is impossible. I could not sense his presence. I thought he was dead.

Shocked whispers broke out as not one, but two living Primarchs stepped through the door. Corax looked the same as the last time Shepard had seen him, but Lion El'Jonson was another matter. Shepard didn't often use the word 'glorious' to describe anything, but Jonson was every inch the commanding monarch. There was confidence in his eyes, but as they scanned the room, Shepard saw calculating assessment of every person present. She wondered what conclusions he came to about her.

"Many of you likely know the identities of our honored guests, but I shall announce them anyway." Dante bowed to the Primarchs. "Lord Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard. Lord Lion El'Jonson, Primarch of the Dark Angels. Welcome to Baal."

Jonson nodded, a little stiffly. "Would that we had met in less dire times, nephew." He turned to the rest of the conclave. "While I have yet to catch up on everything I have missed these last ten millennia, I have been informed of the actions my sons have taken. It appears that they have been… misinformed."

Azrael, who had remained stoic until now, flinched. "My Lord, I—"

"—will be silent," Jonson commanded; his tone was calm, almost kind, but Azrael shut his mouth so fast that Shepard heard his teeth clack together. "My Legion—no, my Chapter and their successors have committed a grave wrong to the descendants of the Ninth Legion. For that, I must apologize; it seems that my sons took my desire for secrecy and increased it to the level of absurdity."

Jonson continued to speak; his words were spoken dryly, yet he told a story that had everyone present enthralled. After the Horus Heresy, Jonson and his many Dark Angels had returned to their homeworld of Caliban, only to be fired upon by their own defenses. The one responsible for the treachery had been a man elevated to a level as close to an Astartes as was possible for one his age—a man named Luther. Once, Luther had been Jonson's foster father and closest friend, but he had been overwhelmed by jealousy and the temptations of Chaos, and the First Legion went to war with itself.

During a furious battle that resulted in Caliban itself falling apart, Jonson and Luther met in personal combat. Empowered as he was by Chaos, Luther had defeated the Primarch, but at the last moment, was overwhelmed by regret, and Jonson struck him down.

"After that, everything turned to darkness," Jonson concluded. "Apparently, I had been tended to by… associates of my Legion, who hid my survival from my sons. For ten thousand years, I was near death, but this one," he gestured to Cypher, "has been making plans to restore me to the waking world."

Dante crossed his arms. "With all due respect, Lord Jonson, but why did his plans involve nearly desecrating the resting place of Sanguinius?"

The Lion paused, and then narrowed his eyes at Cypher, who almost looked sheepish. "There was a prophecy. The Sleeping King would be awakened when stabbed by his own blade, coated in the blood of the Lord of Angels."

Shepard, who hated prophecies, couldn't restrain herself any longer. "And it took you ten thousand years to get that done? And for that matter, why did you shoot me?"

Again, Cypher almost looked apologetic. "I only discovered the prophecy recently. I have tried to infiltrate the Angel's resting place before, but the security was beyond even my abilities. The arrival of Lord Corax and you, Saint Shepard, gave me the opening I needed. And infiltrating the Rock is very difficult; I needed an opening there, as well. Drawing the Blood Angels and the Dark Angels into conflict was my best chance to revive my Primarch."

"That doesn't explain why you shot me."

Cypher shrugged. "You were in my way."

The leaders of the Shepard Crusade present—Blaise, Zandtus and Helmin—bristled at the response, but Jonson held up his hand.

"Peace, please. My son has done… questionable things, to put it mildly. He accepts that, and will receive his due punishment in time. For now, however, I need him alive; he is the key to putting an end to my traitorous sons, and the man who I once called my closest friend."

Shepard frowned. "Wait, Luther is still alive? How?"

"I do not pretend to know the effects of the Warp," Jonson said. "Perhaps the gods he once served saw fit to curse him with everlasting life, or perhaps it is some mutation that afflicts him. Whatever the cause, he lives, and he gathers many thousands of Fallen to his banner.

"However, I will not blindly rush into battle as I did before." Jonson shared an understanding nod with Corax. "The Imperium faces its darkest hour, and only one Primarch stands, doing the duty that should have been shared by twenty. Corax and I will journey to Macragge; we must speak with our brother, and learn of our roles in this new age. We will also call together the many Chapters that have been birthed since the end of the Horus Heresy, concentrating our forces and levying them against the most critical of targets." He then nodded at Dante. "Commander, my brother has told me of his oath to aid you when he has gathered his sons. I pledge to do the same, as much as I am able; consider it penance, on behalf of my sons."

Dante knelt. "Your assistance is greatly appreciated, and I thank you both."

For the first time, Jonson smiled; it was not necessarily a happy smile, but one that came from the satisfaction of achieving a goal.

Shepard almost laughed; from what she could tell, this was as close to a happy resolution as possible in a situation like this. Her good mood died when she saw the unhappy looks from several present—Azrael looked like he'd just swallowed something particularly unpleasant, and Seth was clenching his hands in a way that suggested he was preparing to strangle the Dark Angel Chapter Master. Considering how royally the Dark Angels had screwed up, and were getting off relatively easily, she didn't blame him.

Time to see if I'm still good at being a peacemaker, she thought. Well, maybe 'peace' is stretching it a bit. I'll settle for getting the Dark Angels out of here ASAP.

"Now that this is settled," she said, keeping her tone mild to avoid setting off some of the more explosive personalities present, "the sooner we visit Deliverance, and then Lord Guilliman, the better."

Corax turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "I did not know you intended to join us, Saint Shepard."

Shepard noticed that Jonson was giving her a curious glance, but she ignored it for the moment. "My forces have been through two campaigns recently. We need to repair our ships, vehicles and equipment, and get reinforcements. Going to Ultramar solves several problems at once."

Corax nodded. "In that case, we would be honored to have you join us."

Jonson gave his brother a calculating glance, but nodded. "Agreed."

With that done, everyone prepared to move out, but then paused when Dante spoke. "Supreme Grand Master."

Azrael turned to face the Chapter Master, only to receive a thunderous backhand that sent him tumbling to the floor. Judging by the crack Shepard heard, Azrael's jaw was broken; she didn't find it in her heart to pity him.

"That is my warning to you," Dante said, his tone completely even. "If you ever come into this system without my permission or invitation, I will kill you. I do not care if you come with the orders of a Primarch; if I say you cannot enter, and you try anyway, I will declare you, your Chapter, and every one of your successors to be enemies of Imperium Nihilus. Am I understood?"

Azrael spat out blood, rose to his feet, and nodded. The other Blood Angel representatives—whether from the Chapter or successors—made noises of approval. Seth even laughed.

"If that is all," Jonson said, in a tone that suggested that he would take no more abuse of his gene-son, "we should be on our way."

…

"Chapter Master Phoros?" Shepard called out as she walked at a swift pace after the Lamenter. "Could I speak to you?"

The Chapter Master turned and smiled wryly. "Saint Shepard, it is an honor. While my brothers and I have stayed at the periphery of recent events, we have heard of your Crusade and its noble goals."

"And I've heard plenty about your Chapter." Phoros' expression darkened, but Shepard kept going. "I understand that you made a mistake. I wasn't there, so I don't know why people did what they did; I can't judge you for that. In my opinion, you've more than paid for your crimes, and anyone who says otherwise had better give a damn good reason. But I'm getting off-topic.

"What I meant when I said I've heard plenty is how often your Chapter has done everything to save innocent lives, even at the cost of your own. I'm not one for self-sacrifice, but putting your life on the line for the innocent is a noble act, and I wanted to acknowledge that."

Phoros' only sign of surprise was a series of rapid blinks. "That is… humbling to hear, Saint Shepard. On behalf of my brothers, I thank you."

Shepard let out a sigh, and then a grin. "Oh, good. Does that mean I can stop being all formal now? Because that was physically painful."

Phoros chuckled. "I was not going to say anything, but it felt like those words didn't belong in your mouth."

"I've had practice over the last few…" Shepard was going to say 'years', but she remembered how often she'd had to make speeches before and after her retirement in the Empire. "Decades. It's been decades, and I still hate it."

"It has been centuries for me, and I also find it difficult," Phoros admitted. "Strategy, negotiation, even words of encouragement are easy, but formal speaking to those I do not know? I have faced the worst this galaxy has to offer, and that still fills me with dread."

The two shared a brief laugh, until Shepard leaned around him and looked at the battered Thunderhawk waiting to take Phoros back to his fleet. "Leaving so soon? You just got here."

Phoros' good cheer faded, and he turned away. "My Chapter has long had a… poor relationship with the other sons of the Angel. It is better for all involved if we take our leave."

"Is it because you're cursed?" Phoros whirled back to face her at her frank words. "It is, isn't it?"

"What… what are you talking about?"

Shepard shrugged. "I can… sense it, I guess. You have this weird energy wrapped around you, and I can sense it on the Lamenters in that gunship—oh, hell, I can sense it on the gunship itself."

The tiniest beads of sweat appeared on Phoros' brow. "Are we corrupted?"

"No, I don't think so," Shepard said. "More like something is screwing with you. If you like, I could try fixing it." At Phoros' disbelieving stare, she smiled. "Ask Marneus Calgar if you think I'm lying. I literally beat the Chaos out of a guy, and a few years ago, I kept a Space Marine from getting corrupted by Chaos energies."

Phoros was quiet for a long moment. "I would speak with my brothers about this offer first."

"Fine by me." Shepard shrugged again. "My fleet is leaving with the Dark Angels in two days; if you take longer, it might be a while before we meet up with you again."

"I will have an answer by tomorrow," Phoros decided.

Shepard smiled brightly. "Great! Hey, if you want, you'd be more than welcome to join up with us after we're done. Just a thought. We could always use more Space Marines."

With her piece said, Shepard turned and left, leaving Phoros with much to think about.

…

"Two sons, instead of one." Revelation chuckled as he prodded the fire. "I had long thought the Lion dead. I am glad to be wrong."

Shepard grinned. "Would the Ecclesiarchy call me a heretic if I told them about that?"

"It would likely become a long debate, and a waste of time." Revelation grimaced. "Even now, I detest how my dream of the Imperium has been twisted by religion. I fought to end humanity's dependence on false gods, and forge a secular Imperium driven by truth and logic."

Shepard nodded. "A long time ago, I would have agreed with you. I saw truth in the physical world; the only faith I had was in other people."

"What changed?"

"A simple truth." Shepard took a stick and slowly bent it. "The human spirit is able to stay strong in the face of a lot, but our resolve is not infinite. Eventually, with enough stress or trauma…" She snapped the twig in her hands and tossed the pieces into the fire. "We break. When we have nothing left within, we turn to something without. Like it or not, you provided that 'something', especially when humanity was faced with…" Rather than say the word and draw unwanted attention, Shepard gestured to the forest, where wolves occasionally howled.

Revelation sighed. "Perhaps I overestimated humanity. Perhaps I believed that everyone could be as strong as I am. In the face of so many horrors, the weak will turn to anything that sees them through the night."

"You're not giving us enough credit," Shepard argued. "Yeah, blind faith can be annoying, but I've seen it give courage to soldiers who would have run away, and not only stand up and fight, but win.

"You never wanted to be seen as a god, I get it. But you really don't have a choice in the matter at this point—you're immortal, you have powers unlike any other human, and you protect us from horrors that defy all explanation. Also, once you've got a state religion in your name, you really don't have a choice."

Revelation sighed again. "I know all this. I had just hoped that you would prove me wrong again; you have done so before."

Shepard smirked. "Sorry, you're asking the wrong woman; I found my god, and He ain't you."

"Do you think your Sigmar felt the same as I do?"

"I can't say, since he didn't turn into a psychic lighthouse that eats souls." Shepard gagged. "Gross, by the way."

Revelation nodded wearily. "I understand. For now, I suggest you return to the waking world; speak to the Avenging Son, and watch his reunion with his brothers. After that, I will give you another task."

"Yeah, okay." Shepard stood up and winced as her bones ached. She gestured to the fire. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask—can I make s'mores on this thing?"

Revelation threw back his head and laughed as everything went dark.

…

Shepard's eyes opened and she smiled. "Hey, that time didn't suck as much. Go me."

After wiping off the sweat on her brow, she left her quarters aboard the Vehemence. Waiting outside were two of her Alexian Guards—the least injured, who had required less treatment, and had demanded they be allowed to return to duty as soon as possible.

Shepard's good mood vanished as she thought about her fallen guards. Hours earlier, she had watched as the bodies of her faithful protectors were placed in caskets. She, Rex and Blaise had each given a prayer, and the latter had named each slain Alexian Guard a holy martyr. Shepard had gone a step further and asked a team of artificers to etch each woman's name onto her armor, so that they would always be at her side.

"Your Holiness," one of the guards, a white-haired woman named Carolya—leader of the Alexian Guard, who held the rank of Alexian Superior—bowed her head. "Did you… commune with the God-Emperor?"

"I did," Shepard confirmed. "He's very pleased with our progress. He actually said that we earned a little break, but then we're back on the job."

Carolya's eyes went wide—or rather, one did, since her right had been unsalvageable from a wound on Baal, and had been replaced by a bionic eye. The flesh around the metal was still red and raw, and looked unpleasant.

"It is an honor to serve the God-Emperor, unworthy as I am."

Shepard gently, but firmly, grabbed the other woman's shoulder and turned her to face her. "You are worthy, and anyone who says otherwise can take it up with me." She waited until Carolya nodded before speaking again. "Now then, I have a job for you—two jobs, actually."

"It shall be done."

"First, I want you and your sisters to take a break until you're fully healed." She covered Carolya's mouth when the other woman tried to protest. "No arguing! If you're worried about my safety, I'll ask Zandtus to loan me a few Space Marines. I want my bodyguards at their best, not bleeding on the floor. Your second task, after you've recovered, is to talk to Blaise about replenishing your ranks; you'll be the judge of who's good enough for the position, and no one else, not even me. Is that understood?"

Shepard was wondering where to go next, when her vox-bead chimed. "Yes?"

"A thousand pardons, Saint Shepard, but we have received a message from the Chapter Master of the Lamenters. He asks that you meet him aboard his ship; he says that he accepts your offer."

Shepard grinned. "Tell him I'm on my way."

…

The Star of Grief was a mess; Shepard had thought the Blood Angels battle barge was in bad shape, but the Lamenters' flagship looked like it had been to hell and back. Everywhere she looked, Chapter serfs labored alongside Tech-Priests to repair damaged mechanisms and torn plating.

"Do I even want to know what happened?" she asked.

Phoros, who guided her through the massive ship, scowled. "The last several centuries happened. With most Imperial facilities unwilling to aid us, we have been forced to make do."

"There's another reason for you to sign up with us," Shepard said. "Xem-Beta has gotten fond of maintaining Space Marine equipment. He'll probably give you a dirty look for letting the ship get this bad, but he'll still have it fixed."

"You are making your offer very difficult to refuse," Phoros said dryly.

"Are you refusing?"

"I will withhold that decision until you prove that we are no longer… cursed."

"Sounds good." Shepard looked around. "Where are we going, anyway? It's not like there's a directory or something."

Phoros chuckled. "It comes with spending centuries aboard this ship. And we are heading to the assembly hangar; battle barges such as this one rarely have an entire Chapter present in such a location, but these vessels are more than capable of housing all of us."

"How many times have you actually done that?"

"Very rarely, and never for a happy occasion." Phoros glanced back at her. "Perhaps you will change that."

Phoros brought her to the assembly hangar, where hundreds of Lamenters were waiting. Only about two hundred of them were regular Astartes, and about six hundred more were Primaris; there were also a few Dreadnoughts—critically wounded Space Marines, interred inside of an armored walker—that stood motionless.

"Whatever you are about to do, you will do it to me, first," Phoros said calmly. "My brothers will witness this, and decide if they truly believe you."

Shepard nodded, all joking now gone from her expression. "Can I have your hand, please?"

Phoros raised an eyebrow, and then held out his hand. Shepard took it in both of hers; her silver gauntlets were still dwarfed by his battered yellow one. Even before she began, she could feel the curse twisting, as if it was alive and afraid of her.

You should be afraid, she thought. The Lamenters are under my protection now, and I won't let you hurt them again!

There was a jolt as Shepard's blackstone-enhanced power flowed into Phoros; light crackled around him, followed by the sound of shattering glass and an inhuman shriek as a twisted shadow became visible, and was then destroyed. The other Lamenters all tensed, but Phoros only brought his free hand to his forehead.

"I… I can feel the difference," he said slowly. "It is as if a weight has been removed from my very soul. I did not even know it was there until it was gone."

Shepard smiled up at him; it was the same reassuring smile she'd give David after he woke up from a nightmare. "Well, it won't bother you again. I promise." She turned to the rest of the Chapter. "Okay, who's next?"

In the end, it took almost two days for Shepard to break the hold of Chaos on not just the Lamenters, but their equipment, vehicles, and even their ships. Their curse had spread to even their servo-skulls, which had scattered all over, and had to be hunted down by the Chapter. However, when it was finished, Shepard could proudly say that each Lamenter was as pure as any other Space Marine.

When Shepard finished cleansing the last bolter, Phoros knelt before her, head bowed. "Saint Shepard, you have done my Chapter a service that we can never repay. Please, allow us to accompany your Crusade, so that we may help you bring the light to the darkness."

Shepard was tired, both from the fighting on Baal, and from running around for two full days, but she smiled. "I accept your offer, Chapter Master, on the condition that you accept my offer of a place in my war council. You are probably the most experienced warrior in my Crusade now, and I need the kind of expertise you can bring to the table."

Phoros nodded. "I humbly accept. I swear that my Chapter will not fail you, or the Imperium."

"Good to hear." Shepard motioned for him to rise. "Please, get your Chapter ready to move out. We'll help you with your repairs as we go, but we really need to get to Deliverance, and then to Macragge."

"Of course, Saint Shepard." Phoros smiled; it was the happiest smile that Shepard had ever seen on a Space Marine. "It shall be done."

…

The moon of Deliverance did not usually see visitors, especially in large numbers. Even with messages alerting the Raven Guard Chapter Master, Kayvaan Shrike, of their arrival, he was still alarmed when an enormous fleet emerged from the Warp. He recognized the Rock, the ships of the Dark Angels and their successors, the Lamenters, and those of his Chapter's recent successors, the Necropolis Hawks. However, the number of Imperial Navy and Mechanicus ships swelled that number to a force the system hadn't seen since the days of the Great Crusade.

With so little warning of the Shepard Crusade's coming, Shrike had not been able to recall the entirety of his Chapter; only three Companies had been able to return to Deliverance in time, which left him with just under four hundred Astartes present.

A small part of him worried that Deliverance was about to come under attack. If it did, even the ancient defenses in the system would be unable to stop such a force.

"Chapter Master," a serf said, "the Necropolis Hawks are hailing us. They are requesting permission to land at the Ravenspire; they claim to have a Living Saint and several guests with them, and an important gift for the Chapter."

Shrike frowned behind his modified Mk. VI helm. "Permission granted, but only one transport may do so. And tell the Necropolis Hawks that I ask that the rest of the fleet move out of weapons range."

A few minutes passed, and the serf confirmed that all of his conditions were being met. That was a small relief to Shrike, but he had expected it; while he had never met Saint Shepard before, he had heard stories of how she was respectful to those who had not earned her wrath.

"I want the First Company with me on the landing pad," he ordered into his vox. "And have all defenses ready to fire, just in case. I will not be taken by surprise in my own home."

…

The Overlord slowly landed; it was clear that its weapons were shut down, and it was making every effort to appear as unthreatening as possible. Shrike watched from the shadows, along with nearly a hundred of the Raven Guard's elite veterans. With but a word, the guns hidden around the Ravenspire would blow the transport to pieces, and any survivors would be cut down in seconds.

Shrike tensed as the Overlord's ramp lowered, and several figures stepped out. He recognized one as Raquilon Zandtus—he had met the Primaris Chapter Master only once, but he had seemed to be an honorable man.

Then there was the woman who could only be Saint Shepard. Her silver armor gleamed in the weak sunlight as she gazed up at the Ravenspire. Shrike could tell that she was studying how the fortress-monastery was built; more than that, he could see on her face that she was suitably impressed.

When the next passengers stepped outside, Shrike forgot all about the ships in orbit, or their unexpected visit. All he or his brothers could focus on was a figure of legend, who had returned to Deliverance after more than ten thousand years. No living Raven Guard had ever laid eyes on him, but such was their genetic connection that they knew who he was by sight alone.

For the first time since his days as a mortal, Kayvaan Shrike trembled as he stepped out of the shadows and knelt before his Primarch.

"Lord Corax," he said softly, "welcome home."

Massive hands rested on his shoulders and gently pulled him to his feet. He looked up at Corax's face, a face that now lacked a beard, and with much shorter hair. That face bore a patient, almost fond, smile.

"It is good to see that the Ravenspire still stands after so many years," Corax said. "I have heard of your deeds, Chapter Master; you and your brothers would have made the Legion of old proud, as you have made me."

Shrike's eyes stung with unshed tears. "Thank you, Lord Corax."

Corax looked up at the Ravenspire wistfully. "Had we the time, I would have enjoyed seeing what has changed. Sadly, in this dark hour, there is little time to spare. My brother and I must reach Ultramar, and some of our allies require immediate aid."

At the mention of a brother, Shrike managed to tear his gaze away from his Primarch, and saw Lion El'Jonson was also present, looking faintly amused. It took Shrike a moment to respond to Corax's words.

"I shall send word to Kiavahr," he said. "They will send supplies and personnel."

"Good." Corax turned to the Living Saint. "Saint Shepard, those of your vessels that require urgent repairs should stay behind, but Jonson and I must continue on."

"I understand," Shepard said. "As soon as critical repairs are finished, those ships will follow after us. They can finish the small stuff later."

"My Lord," Shrike ventured, "might we delay your departure for at least a few more days? Several more companies are already en route to Deliverance…"

Corax shared a look with Jonson before answering. "Very well. We will wait for five more days; after that, we must leave." He smiled at Shrike again. "Until then, I would very much like to hear more of my sons' exploits over the millennia."

…

Three weeks later, the entire Ultramar system was on high alert when the Shepard Crusade and its allies arrived. A total of over two thousand ships, including vessels from over fifteen Space Marine Chapters, appeared without incident and fell into a defensive formation to compliment the Ultramar fleet.

With as much ceremony as could be agreed upon between two very different Primarchs, a procession of transports carried them, as well as Shepard and her own escort, down to the surface of Macragge. The ancient mountains surrounding the Fortress of Hera, the fortress-monastery, stood as imposingly as they ever had, while hundreds of gun batteries tracked the incoming transports, just in case.

Nearly the entire Ultramarines Chapter was present to greet the visitors, along with fifty thousand of the Ultramar PDF. Other officials, including representatives from the Mechanicus, Ecclesiarchy, Administratum, Inquisition, and dozens of other minor factions were in attendance, but there was only one figure that Corax and Jonson focused on.

Roboute Guilliman, Lord Commander of the Imperium, the Avenging Son, Primarch of the Ultramarines. He stood in his full armor, the early morning sun causing the gold on his armor to glitter. That armor was more like an exoskeleton than true power armor, and it made him even more imposing; he had not come armed to this meeting, but even without his weapons, he was probably a match for either Corax or Jonson, unless they came at him with the intent to kill.

"Corvus Corax," Guilliman said warmly, his hands outstretched, "Lion El'Jonson. Welcome to Macragge. It has been a long time."

Corax was a stark contrast to his brothers, with his battered armor and less approachable personality, nodded in respect before taking Guilliman's hand in a warrior's grip.

"Roboute," he said quietly, "it is good to see you alive."

Shepard noticed that Jonson was looking around, as if he was comparing what he saw to old memories. She wasn't sure if he approved or not, but he nodded at Guilliman.

"It is good to see Macragge once again." He raised an eyebrow. "I had heard you were dead, brother, and then came back to life."

Guilliman smirked. "It would appear that tales of your own death were greatly exaggerated, Jonson."

Finally, the Avenging Son turned his gaze towards Shepard. In those eyes, she saw a mind capable of comprehending more knowledge in a day than she could ever hope to in several lifetimes. They were eyes that had beheld the greatest triumphs and the darkest treacheries, yet refused to let either slow him down—instead, they fueled his determination to drag the Imperium out of the darkness and into the light.

"So, you are Saint Shepard." With the attention of three Primarchs now on her, their combined auras nearly had Shepard immobile, even with the Emperor bolstering her. "Your Crusade has been responsible for much progress in Imperium Nihilus, and now you bring two of my lost brothers to me."

"Yes, Lord Guilliman," she said after a moment to compose herself. "I think we have a lot to discuss."

Guilliman nodded. "Yes, I believe we do."

Primarchs are hard to write the perspectives of; their minds are so far beyond what is humanly possible, and are thus incredibly difficult to understand. That's why I didn't even try to write out their thoughts. They do things, and they usually have a good reason behind them.

I decided to have a few time-skips, or else I'd have two or three chapters of the characters just sitting around. My ADHD doesn't allow for that.

Did the Dark Angels get off easily? Yeah, they did, not counting getting slapped around by the Blood Angels, Shepard and Friends, and the Lamenters (who totally deserve a win). I decided that Jonson does still want to destroy the Fallen, but even he knows that secrets are stupid when they bring you into pointless conflict with the wrong side. Also, despite, Azrael being a douche, he is Supreme Grand Master for a reason; he'll keep his job, but he now answers to Daddy Lion. Wait, does that make Jonson Mufasa? He was near-killed by Luther, his sort-of brother…

Moving on.

There's no way the Lamenters have the luck they do without outside interference. Either Tzeentch got bored and messed with them, or GW really hates them. Anyway, I went with the curse option, and had Shepard remove said curse. Considering how awesome the Lamenters were, even with the curse, I imagine that they will be some of the Crusade's best elements.

Don't expect any of the Unforgiven to join Shepard. She is still unhappy with them.

And Guilliman arrives. Three Primarchs in a single chapter. Fun times.

Please consider buying my book, Alpha Sanction, by Josh Gottlieb. If you're into military sci-fi, I think you'll enjoy my book. And I plan on the sequel to be out in a couple of months, so you have that to look forward to! You can find the book on Amazon, either as an eBook, or in physical format.

If you're feeling particularly awesome, please support my own crusade for financial stability and donate on P-atreon (link in my profile). The God-Emperor smiles on those who support those who support Him.

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Next Chapter: Shepard witnesses the reunion of brothers, while her enemies bring forth a weapon from the past to haunt her…

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