WARHAMMER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. THE INQUISITION SAYS I'M ALLOWED TO BE HERE, BUT THE BOLT PISTOL AGAINST MY HEAD MAKES WRITING DIFFICULT.

Guys, I think Nurgle has obtained too much power. Also, there's a bunch of Nurglings running around outside, calling me names. It's very mean.

Star-Bound

Chapter 15

Reflection

Shepard waited patiently outside the doors of Guilliman's sanctum. For hours, he and his brothers had been isolated in that room, leaving Shepard with little to do until summoned. She had spent that time catching up with Marneus Calgar; the Chapter Master had little free time, but he was friendly enough with her. He also made a show of clearing the air with Malakim Phoros; apparently, the Lamenters had accidentally offended the Ultramarines centuries ago, but Calgar greeted his counterpart with a brotherly embrace.

Eventually, Shepard was called to meet with the Primarchs, but she still had to wait for a few minutes. When the door opened, she was ushered inside, where she saw the three brothers sitting in large chairs, each with a goblet of wine. None of them wore armor, and the sight of them like they were almost made Shepard laugh.

"Welcome, Saint Shepard," Guilliman said. "Please, take a seat."

Shepard glanced at the only free chair in the room. It had been built for a Primarch in mind, so when Shepard sat down, her feet couldn't reach the floor.

"You're enjoying this," she accused.

"Perhaps a little," Guilliman admitted. "But I feel that way with any mortal who sits in one of those chairs."

"Roboute has gained a sense of humor," Corax remarked to Jonson. "Should we be concerned?"

Jonson smirked. "Perhaps."

Shepard looked from one Primarch to another. "You know, I didn't expect the three of you to act like, well… like brothers."

"We have spent ten millennia apart," Corax reminded her. "With the galaxy as it is, even we need such simple joys."

"Good point," Shepard said. "But I'm guessing that you needed to talk to me about something."

"Questions, actually." Guilliman leaned back in his chair. "You are not the first Living Saint that I have met, and she claimed a connection to the Emperor. Corvus has told me that you have spoken to Him."

Shepard took a deep breath. "Yes, I have. It's hard to explain."

Guilliman's expression was almost deadpan. "Try."

Shepard chuckled. "Well, it's a good thing we're already comfortable. It's a long story."

…

"You're taller than I remember, Lord Calgar," Phoros commented idly.

"The wonders of crossing the Rubicon Primaris," Calgar replied; he briefly looked down at his gauntlet-covered hands. "Becoming a Primaris Marine has granted me new vitality and strength."

Phoros raised an eyebrow. "Would you recommend it?"

Here, Calgar hesitated. "It is risky. Many Astartes have tried, and many have lost their lives."

"I will take that into account." Phoros glanced down at one of his own gauntlets, covered in nicks and divots; he then looked at Calgar's pristine armor. "Thank you for allocating resources to my brothers; it has been some time since proper maintenance has been performed on our wargear."

"You are most welcome." Calgar must have spotted the surprise on Phoros' face, despite how well he hid it. "In these times of need, I will not hold grudges against comrades that have long since earned redemption."

Phoros accepted his words with a nod; he knew that the Lamenters had committed a grave sin against the Imperium, but they had fought for over a century since to regain their honor. He was just surprised that someone else had finally said as much. Someone other than Shepard, anyway; from what Phoros had heard, and from the little interaction he'd had with her compared to other leaders in the Crusade, Shepard was more willing to look beyond the surface than most Imperials.

"Tell me, Lord Phoros," Calgar said as they walked down a marble hallway, "do you know where the Crusade is headed next?"

"I wish I did know," Phoros said. "As far as I am aware, our only goal was to get Lords Corax and Jonson here. If there is a destination beyond that, Saint Shepard has yet to reveal it."

Calgar nodded. "Regardless, the Shepard Crusade has done excellent work in Imperium Nihilus. If you want to make a difference for the downtrodden, the Shepard Crusade has brought a measure of hope for the hopeless."

Including my own Chapter, Phoros thought wryly. Only a few weeks ago, he had privately been certain that he and his brothers were doomed to a slow extinction, even with their Primaris reinforcements. Now, after joining Shepard for less than a month, he wondered if the Lamenters might not only survive, but finally shake off their dark reputation.

That thought was enough to cement his decision. "Thank you, Lord Calgar. My brothers and I are always eager to aid those in greatest need."

Calgar nodded again. "I wish we had more time to converse, but even this time of celebration is tainted by reports of war. I can have an adept give you a report of the supplies transferred to your Chapter, as well as the progress of the repairs."

"That would be most appreciated, Lord Calgar; my brothers are eager to prove themselves to the Shepard Crusade."

Calgar's normally dour face smiled. "I'm certain that they will soon enough, my friend."

…

"This is most concerning," Helmin said, though his tone didn't hint at his worry. "How did this slip our notice until now?"

On the other side of the table, Blaise and Rex were incensed at the handwritten book that lay between them. "I don't know," the latter admitted through red-faced fury. "This goes well beyond acceptable deviance—it is utter heresy!"

"Saint Shepard will be even more enraged than we," Blaise said. "We all know how uncomfortable she is with such attention at the best of times."

"Perhaps…" Helmin hesitated, but then pushed on. "Perhaps we should not tell her? We could keep this between us, choose soldiers we can trust to remove these heretics, and swear them to secrecy."

"That is a dark path," Rex warned, but sighed. "However, it may be one we must bear, so that Saint Shepard does not suffer."

"Then we are decided?" Helmin waited until Blaise and Rex nodded. "Very well. I will call in Vils; his troops and the Sororitas will be able to handle this quietly."

A few minutes later, Vils entered the strategium and saluted; the Deltic Scorpions might have been the first to join the Shepard Crusade, but he was still the lowest-ranked in the room.

"Your summons sounded urgent," he said, getting right to business. "What has happened?"

Helmin used the back of his hand to push the book in his direction. "We have a problem aboard the Vehemence; outside of this room, only the High Admiral is aware of this. A group of the ship's crew and elements of several Astra Militarum regiments in the Crusade have begun worshipping Saint Shepard as an equal to the God-Emperor. They see her communion with Him, and the return of His sons, to be signs that she is more than just favored by Him."

Vils was one of the most disciplined men outside of the Astartes, but even he looked outraged at this heresy. He glared at the book, and his hand drifted to his plasma pistol.

"What do we do about this?"

"Your troops, and the Sisters of the Order of Our Martyred Lady, will hunt down these deluded fools," Helmin ordered. "You will find all who follow this deviancy, from the newest converts to the idiots who started it all, and… remove them."

"With pleasure," Vils said. "Saint Shepard didn't start this Crusade just so she could become a false idol."

"Which is why we must do this without her knowledge," Blaise said, though she sounded regretful. "The Shepard Crusade has been more successful than we could have imagined, but if Her Holiness were to learn of this, she would become so disgusted that she might disband the Crusade altogether."

Despite the gravity of the situation, all four of them smiled bitterly; they had come to know Shepard well enough to be certain that she would do exactly that. She would still fight the Imperium's enemies, but she would withdraw from all but the most necessary of interactions with people.

"When should we begin?" Vils asked.

"As soon as possible," Helmin said. "Fortune willing, we can stamp out this madness before we set off for the next campaign."

"Understood." Vils spared one last glare at the book, and its title.

Words of the Empress

…

Shepard took a sip from the tea a serf had provided during a break in her story. "So, yeah. That's about it."

To their credit, the Primarchs had been an excellent audience during the three days it had taken Shepard to tell them everything. From her time as an N7, to a general in the Empire, to becoming a Living Saint, all the way up to meeting Corax on Baal.

"I feel like you skimmed over a few details of your life," Guilliman commented idly.

Shepard gave him a tired grin. "I figured you three wouldn't mind if I skipped the minutiae. Or did you want to know every single time I had to change my son's diapers?"

Corax chuckled. "She has a point, Roboute; besides, she told us everything that mattered."

"Assuming it is all true," Jonson said. "I have no reason to believe it isn't, but you did not exactly bring proof with you."

"Even if I did make up a story that ridiculous," Shepard said, admitting to everyone that her life did sound impossible, "I've been doing good work for the Imperium."

"You are correct," Guilliman admitted. "And it is difficult to deny that a lie that impossible would be foolish to tell, so I must concede that it is likely true. The question now is, what are you going to do?"

"Well, the Emperor still has His mission for me," Shepard said. "There are more missing Primarchs out there; the Emperor is positive that at least Leman Russ, Vulkan and Jaghatai Khan are still alive."

"You mentioned that our father did not know that I yet lived." Jonson laced his fingers together and frowned. "Does that mean that the Emperor's sight cannot reach all of us? Could Dorn still live?"

Shepard shrugged helplessly. "If he is still alive, he's somewhere the Emperor can't sense, or He just hasn't told me about him yet."

Guilliman's expression darkened. "It would not be the first time that the Emperor held back secrets of great import. Had he told us of the dangers of the Warp, perhaps Magnus would have tempered his curiosity, and Lorgar might not have fallen to worshipping the Dark Gods. Perhaps even Horus—"

"Theoreticals and practicals, brother," Jonson said in a way that sounded like he was reminding Guilliman of something. "We cannot change the past, so we cannot dwell on it. We can only learn from our mistakes and not make them again."

Guilliman closed his eyes and smiled bitterly. "Using my own method against me, brother? It has been a long time since someone has reprimanded me like that, or at all."

"All the better that Shepard brought Corax and I back," Jonson said. "Obviously, you need someone to poke a hole in that ego of yours." He shook his head. "But we have gotten off-topic. Shepard, do you have a destination for your next campaign?"

Shepard had been watching the interaction between the Primarchs with fascination, but pretended to finish her tea to avoid looking obvious. She didn't fool the Primarchs for a second, but they didn't call her out on it. "Not yet, but I'm sure I'll get a hint before we ship out again. Do you mind if I ask you three a question?"

"Of course not," Corax said, answering for all three of them.

"What are your plans?" Shepard waved a hand at a map of the galaxy on the far wall. "Imperium Sanctus is far from secure, and Imperium Nihilus still has more problems than I can count."

Guilliman nodded. "We have considered that. I will continue to act as Lord Commander of the Imperium, but my efforts will now focus on Imperium Sanctus."

"My sons and I will return to Imperium Nihilus, to strike from the shadows at our enemies," Corax said. "I will coordinate with Commander Dante to break enemy strongholds and reclaim lost territory."

Jonson frowned thoughtfully. "I still have a score to settle with Luther and the Fallen, but I know that they will wait as long as it takes for that reckoning. Until then, my sons and I will patrol the Great Rift; I plan to help fortify the many corridors you have created, on both sides. Every fleet that can safely enter Imperium Nihilus is one more light against the darkness."

Shepard could see the stress melting away from Guilliman with every word from his brothers; for over a century, he had been doing the work of twenty Primarchs, and had been pushed far beyond what even he was capable of. All three Primarchs would still have to deal with far too much, but it was an impossible task that rested on three pairs of shoulders, not just one.

"Well, I'm sure you have a lot more to discuss," she said, and then barely managed to cover up a yawn. "Sorry, I think I need to get some sleep."

If it were possible for Primarchs to look sheepish, the three before her would have done so.

"My apologies," Guilliman said. "Sometimes we forget that few mortals can easily function without sleep."

Shepard bowed her head and made to get up, but Corax stopped her. "One last thing, Shepard—while I will take most of my sons on my part of the campaign, I have asked Chapter Master Zandtus and the Necropolis Hawks to remain with your Crusade. They have served your cause well, and I will not deprive you of them now."

Shepard smiled up at him. "Thank you; I consider many of the Necropolis Hawks my friends, and I was hoping that they'd stick around."

Corax nodded, and then opened the door for her; once she was gone, he sat down with his brothers. "Some of what she said has me concerned."

Jonson raised an eyebrow. "What part?"

"She has walked in three different galaxies—no, three different realities. If she can come here, can something else, something that is not as noble, do the same? Could something from this galaxy, such as Chaos, reach into other realities? Shepard mentioned that Chaos existed on her previous world."

Guilliman gently pinched the bridge of his nose—a sign of weariness he would never show to the outside world. "At this point, Corvus, I am not too worried about something from her previous lives comes here; from her descriptions, it seems that everything she didn't kill was much weaker than our current foes. And, callous it may be to say, I do not care if some of our current foes left our galaxy for another."

"I have a question, Corvus," Jonson said. "Why did you not bring up this matter with Shepard while she was here?"

Corax grimaced. "For all her fortitude, she is still mortal; I could tell that she has given into despair on more than one occasion. Like me, she is prone to self-recrimination, and the Imperium needs her focused." He chuckled. "She is the one who reminded me of that. Her powers are simply too important to let her fade into obscurity."

Guilliman sighed, but nodded all the same. Shepard had withstood far more than a mortal should have to bear, but the Imperium needed her. For all the bitterness it left him, he would use Shepard until she had nothing left to give.

…

Two previous lifetimes of habit was hard to break; even now, Shepard still liked to do her rounds and check on her forces. Of course, the sheer size of her Crusade meant that visiting every person, or even every unit, was far too impractical. Instead, Shepard checked in with the other leaders within the Crusade, and occasionally a few individuals if she ran into them.

That didn't mean that Shepard didn't care about everyone in the Crusade. At some point, she'd started referring to her soldiers as her kids, and often jokingly treated some of them as children. It was particularly funny to all involved when she did that to the Space Marines, but they all took it in stride.

It was several days after her meeting with the Primarchs that Shepard noticed that some of her 'daughters' were in distress, and that caused alarms to go off in her head.

Shepard was good at reading people; it had been one of her strongest virtues, and something that had helped her during her officer's training. After so many decades, that skill had only been honed, which was why she quickly picked up on what could only be described as barely-concealed panic among the Order of Our Martyred Lady. Rather than try to follow the trail, she went straight to the source.

"Temperance, is something going on?" she asked as she entered Blaise's sanctum.

The Canoness Superior looked up from her reports. "How do you mean?"

"I was checking up on our girls, and they were… well, they looked ready to freak out." Shepard took a seat opposite Blaise. "Did I miss something?"

For a moment, Blaise hesitated, and she looked down in what Shepard realized was shame. "I received a message from Junith Eruita, the Canoness Superior over the entire Order. By the decree of the Ecclesiarch, Abbess Sanctorum and Prioress of Ophelia VII, all Sororitas of the Shepard Crusade have been…"

Shepard almost couldn't believe it when she saw tears in Blaise's remaining eye. She reached out and took the other woman's hands in her own.

"Temperance, just tell me, okay?"

Blaise nodded. "We have been commanded to form a new Order. We are no longer of the Order of Our Martyred Lady. We were told that this was no punishment, but our role in the Shepard Crusade has pulled us away from the duties we were originally assigned. Our armor and heraldry must be changed, and our new Order's name must be chosen."

Shepard was in nearly as much shock as Blaise; the Order meant everything to the Sororitas, and even being given the honor of forming a new Order was more of a backhanded compliment. It was almost like being kicked out of their own family.

"What can I do to help?" Shepard asked. "I could appeal to them, ask them to reconsider—"

"No!" Blaise jumped to her feet, eyes wide. "Your Holiness, we do see this as an honor, but it was so unexpected, especially in the wake of our success. Some of us wondered if we had transgressed, but our faith will return, stronger than ever."

For all her words, Blaise—and, by extension, the entirety of the new Order—still needed some reassurance. Shepard put her hands together and closed her eyes; she tapped into her power and materialized her wings for a moment. It was a sham, and she knew it, but she would do anything to bolster her friend's spirit.

"You have not transgressed," she said, and took Blaise's hands again. "You and your Sisters are brave and true. The Order of Our Martyred Lady is diminished in glory for sending you away. Forge your new Order with pride, and know that I will always stand by you."

Blaise didn't hide the tears that ran down her face; they were not tears of shame, but of almost rapturous joy. She wiped them away with her bionic hand, but then stared at her prosthetic with a wide eye.

"Temperance?" Shepard looked down at Blaise's hand, still wet with her tears. "What's going on in your head?"

"These are tears of pride," Blaise said, her voice almost trancelike. "Pride in the Emperor's work. These tears will only polish the iron in our souls. That shall be our new name—the Order of the Iron Tears."

Shepard smiled. "Let those tears be of grief only once; never let someone cause them twice. Always strive for their cause to be of joy and celebration of victory."

Blaise smiled back; the zealous light had faded from her eye, and she looked more relaxed. "Those sound like excellent words from our Order's Matriarch."

"Wait, what?" Matriarchs were the founders and Saints of an Order; there were supposed to be six Matriarchs, for the original six Orders. Putting Shepard in as a seventh Matriarch was a huge deal. "Temperance, are you sure about that?"

Blaise nodded. "I will submit your name as a new Matriarch, a Living Saint who has done more for the Imperium than perhaps any other. I am certain that the Abbess Sanctorum will approve."

Shepard smiled. "You have faith in that?"

"I do." Blaise laughed. "I have faith."

…

"You seem excited," Shepard said as she sat down across from Revelation. "Good news, I take it?"

"It is good news," the old man said as he poked the fire. "The darkness has faded enough for me to find a clue regarding one of my missing sons."

"Great, another family reunion to put together." Shepard held her hands close to the fire to warm her aching joints. "Who am I looking for this time?"

"You will find out soon." Revelation laughed when Shepard pouted. "Forgive me, but I so rarely get a chance to tease. Do not worry, I have gained enough strength to give you a new wayfinder in realspace. You need only wake up for that."

"Do I have to wait long?"

"I could send you back at any time," Revelation said. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, this is a place where thought becomes reality, right?" Shepard reached behind her and pulled out a bag of marshmallows. "I wasn't kidding about the s'mores."

"Goodbye, Shepard."

…

Shepard woke up and grumbled good-naturedly. "Jackass. Next time, I'm just gonna go for it."

She got out of bed and looked around. "He said he left the clue for me. Did he actually leave it in my quarters?" She paused as a thought came to her. "No way it could be that easy…"

She went to her desk, where she had left the jar that had, until a few hours ago, had held the feather that had pointed to Corvus Corax. Now, it had changed; instead of a feather, it held a fang. After a moment of examining it, she realized that it was the fang of a wolf.

Shepard activated her quarters' vox. "Dartan, are you up?"

"Of course, Your Holiness. Do you require anything?"

"Tell the fleet that we're shipping out soon," Shepard said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. "We've got a new trail to follow."

"The Emperor has told you which Primarch we seek next?"

"Yeah, He did. Send a message to the Primarchs on Macragge; tell them we're going after Leman Russ."

…

Far from Ultramar, another meeting was taking place; this one was far from peaceful, as Abaddon the Despoiler pulled the Talon of Horus from the chest of a Chaos Lord. The Warmaster didn't even look down at the corpse, instead fixing his gaze to the others in his court.

"I trust that my point has been made."

From the way no one spoke up, he assumed that it had. His display of brutality would silence the naysayers for a few weeks, which would give him the time he needed to change his fortunes.

Abaddon was careful not to let his frustration show. A little over five years ago, his great campaign had seemed unstoppable; even the return of Guilliman and the influx of the Primaris Astartes had only slowed his progress. Now, his many gains were on the verge of being overturned, and it was because of a single individual.

The Neverborn were still too afraid to speak of her, but Abaddon's mortal servants had learned much of Alexia Shepard. Her story began on Vigilus, mere days after he had been forced to retreat; according to many, she had the power to purge Chaos from people, machines, and even an entire planet. Since then, a Crusade had formed around her, striking hard at the Imperium's enemies; her military victories were almost insignificant compared to the wider galaxy, but it was something else that was causing more and more problems for Abaddon.

Shepard had the ability to create holes in the Great Rift. Each corridor she formed was another stable pathway for Imperial forces to come through and fortify both sides of the Rift. With Guilliman's logistical prowess leading the efforts, the Imperium was slowly reasserting its grip on both sides of the galaxy.

Something had to be done, but the galaxy was a big place, and Shepard's campaign was too fast for Abaddon to catch up. More frustratingly, her power prevented his sorcerers from scrying her plans. Of course, those plans had quickly become obvious. The Daemons were eager to let Abaddon know of the latest threat to his own plans.

She had found not just one loyal Primarch, but two. The forces of Chaos had been thrown into a panic when Guilliman was resurrected, and it was even worse now.

At least Abaddon knew which Primarchs he was dealing with; he would have to make a few deals with the Alpha Legion to parry Corax's shadow war, but it was the Lion's tactical prowess—and the huge number of Space Marines under his banner, a Legion in all but name—that concerned him most. He was positive that the Raven and the Lion would take the war to him, which meant that his attention would be suitably held.

Something still had to be done about Shepard. Harkon, his loyal herald, had offered to hunt her down, but Abaddon needed someone who knew Shepard, who could match and even outpace her. Two years ago, his sorcerers had worked to find such an individual.

Instead, they found three. The Daemons feared Shepard directly, but they were happy to find the souls of those who were her enemies. Though their souls had long since left their bodies, snatching them from the aether was a simple matter. None had been able to defeat Shepard alone, but the sorcerers and warpsmiths had an idea for that, and had spent the better part of two years forging a body for the souls to inhabit.

Now, Abaddon journeyed to the laboratory aboard the Vengeful Spirit set aside for just this purpose, he was ready to see the results of their endeavor.

"Is it ready?" he asked as he walked through the doorway.

One of the sorcerers bowed. "The body is, my lord—we were about to begin fusing the souls now."

"Excellent." Abaddon glanced at the body that hung from hooks and nodded. "Begin your ritual. I have need of my hunter."

…

Fear. Ambition. Hatred.

Fear of being enslaved. Fear that his decisions were not his own. Fear that he would be stopped.

Ambition for control. Ambition for superiority. Ambition that was thwarted.

Hatred for those whom she perceived as having more than her. Hatred for those who stood against her. Hatred for those who took what was rightfully hers.

Those three emotions were what burned at the core of each soul, what kept them intact, despite the powers that sought to consume them. Alone, none of them were special; countless millions had the same qualities as them, and all of them died.

What made them special, what attracted them together like the electrons of an atom, was that each of them had been killed by the same person.

None of them cared for who the others were, nor what they had once been. All that mattered, all that kept even a spark of sanity alive, was the desire for revenge.

Revenge for daring to defy them. Revenge for causing them harm. Revenge for killing them.

When they had been given the offer to get the revenge they so craved, there had been no hesitation. The trio had eagerly accepted, and they had waited patiently for a vessel to house them. Now, as the power drew them together, the three compatible—but still unique—souls began to blend into one.

Memories overlapped, emotions blurred, but the face of a single human woman remained constant. It didn't matter to them what the cost would be, so long as revenge was theirs.

A pulling sensation, and then the amalgamation was drawn to its new body. The time of waiting was over. It was now time to hunt.

…

A terrible scream rent the air as foreign souls were melded together and placed into a body that didn't belong to any of them. Eyes glowed as unholy power surged within, and chains that had held the body in place pulled taught as it lunged forward.

Abaddon didn't move; he had faced far worse than a monster in the throes of its own birth.

"Be still," he commanded, and the sorcery woven into the creature forced it to obey him.

The Warmaster slowly circled around his monster; it was vaguely human, though it was impossible to determine its gender. Its skin was that of molten silver, which constantly shifted, like liquid in a clear container. Had Abaddon not been in his armor, the creature would have towered over him; even then, it was close.

"Do you know who you are?"

The creature turned its head to face him; Abaddon raised a single eyebrow as the face briefly shifted to a middle-aged human man, then a woman, and then some avian-insectoid xeno.

"We are SarenArterius/JackHarper/HenriettavonCarstein." The creature paused, as if considering what it had just said. "I am the Amalgamation of Hate."

Abaddon glanced at one of the sorcerers, who bowed slightly. "It will take a day or two for the fusion to settle, but describing itself as 'I' instead of 'we' so quickly is a good sign."

"Very well, Amalgamation." Abaddon lifted the Talon of Horus and hooked one claw under the creature's chin to turn its head back and forth. "You were promised vengeance against my enemy. Slay her, and we will both have what we want."

Amalgamation's eyes glowed crimson. "Yes. I will do this. Does Shepard fight alone?"

"No. She has powerful allies."

"Then we require an army."

Abaddon smiled. "I know exactly where you can start. But first, you will need armor and weapons."

Another sorcerer presented a suit of armor on a rack, and a sword. Each had been crafted for Amalgamation's hand, etched with Chaos runes of vengeance and spite. Thralls scurried forward and assembled the armor around Amalgamation's frame, until its entire body was covered; it now looked like a particularly tall Chaos Marine, but with an aura of malice that even Abaddon was impressed by.

Amalgamation looked the Warmaster in the eye. "Where shall I begin?"

Hooray, I'm back with this story! Sorry it took so long to update, I was just really into my newest story, My Alien Academia. Also, I've been writing my next book; the only good thing about the coronavirus is that I have a lot of time to write.

Anyway, some interesting things happened in this chapter. Three Primarchs reunited. Some 'heretics' are suggesting that Shepard is an Empress. Malakim Phoros is considering crossing the Rubicon. The Sisters in the Crusade have been made into their own Order (because typing the Order of Our Martyred Lady over and over is a pain). The next Primarch has been identified.

And three of Shepard's worst enemies have been resurrected, and made stronger than ever.

Some of you might be going 'WTF? Those three died in different universes!' To that, I say that Chaos is present in all realities, in various levels of power. Souls go to the same place (the bad ones, anyway), so all Abaddon had to do was go fishing for Shepard's enemies who would love a second chance at taking her down. Lots of conflict coming up!

Anyway, for those of you who are stuck inside, please consider buying my book, Alpha Sanction, by Josh Gottlieb. You can find it on my website (link in my profile), or on Amazon. The sequel, Delta Sanction, is getting there, and should be published soon!

You can also support me on P-atreon (link in my profile), which can give me just a little less stress, and more time to write.

Speaking of which, I want to give a huge shout-out to the following Patrons:

Serious Muffins: jafr86, SpaceEmperorSpar, Nimrod009, Anders Lyngbye, Matthias Matanovic, ChaosSpartan575, John Collins, Calleo, Casey Pak, Red Bard, Ultimatrix10, Shaolin Khalil

Incredible Muffins: RaptorusMaximus, michaelb958, Crazyman844, killroy225

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

Next Chapter: The Shepard Crusade marches on, but shadows gather to meet the growing light…

Burn in holy Muffins!