WARHAMMER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. I ONCE TRIED TO GET OUT OF SCHOOL BY CLAIMING THAT I WOULD ONLY BE AVAILABLE ONCE I'D GOTTEN MY DREADNOUGHT SARCOPHAGUS. FOR SOME REASON, IT DIDN'T WORK.

Only in death does duty end, right? Sorry, Shepard, it's not that easy for you.

Star-Bound

Chapter 18

Vengeance

Phoros arrived to a disaster. The Space Wolves and Necropolis Hawks were holding their own well enough, but the Guard were in complete disarray. Even the executions at the Commissars' hands did little to get them organized. They weren't even running away, they were just… a mess. Some were slumped over behind barricades, while others screamed obscenities as they fired blindly into the Tyranids.

What shocked Phoros most were the Sororitas; they fought, but there was a sluggishness in their movements, a despair that he recognized from his Chapter's darkest moments. Something had happened, something so terrible that it had all but broken the spirits of some of the Crusade's most zealous warriors.

"Malakim," Zandtus said over the vox, his voice cold and grim. "I need your Chapter to reinforce the position three hundred meters north of my location."

"Of course." Phoros directed his pilots, even as he took in the battlefield. "What has happened?"

"Shepard has fallen." Those three words hit Phoros harder than he would ever admit. "The Alexian Guard and a few other units have secured her body, but they have been cut off."

"Understood." Phoros was calm, but inside, he was struggling to comprehend what he was hearing.

Shepard was dead?

As much as he trusted Zandtus, he couldn't believe it, not until he saw the body with his own eyes.

"Lamenters," he called out to his brothers, "our allies are in danger. It is not our way to let them die, not when we can save them. This is why we are here! Join me in destroying the foe, and saving our comrades!"

Thunderhawks and Overlords lowered their ramps, and the Lamenters jumped out. Bolters roared and chainswords growled, but it was their voices that were heard over it all.

"FOR THOSE WE CHERISH, WE DIE IN GLORY!"

Despite the pain he was still in, Phoros was the first on the ground, and his Glaive Encarmine sliced through a Tyranid Warrior before he finished his third step.

"First Company, with me!" he roared. "No mercy for the foe!"

Ever since Primaris Marines had been introduced to the fold, Phoros had reorganized his First Company. Nearly half of them were Sanguinary Guard, while the rest were the most veteran of Primaris Marines—the best Intercessors, Aggressors, and Bladeguard Veterans. The latter, armed with the finest power swords available and large storm shields, formed a spearpoint that cut through wave after wave of xenos abominations. The Intercessors and Aggressors moved behind them, obliterating anything that tried to flank them with withering volleys of fire.

Phoros ignored the painful protest in his body as he kept pace with the Sanguinary Guard. Once, the Lamenters had been able to field Terminators, but their ancient suits had been lost years ago, and the Imperium had all but refused to replace them. Phoros now made do with an expanded Sanguinary Guard, and he was reaping the benefits now; their skill was apparent as they shot, punched and hacked their way through the Tyranids. Some of them even used short bursts from their winged jump packs to smash any alien that remained out of reach.

The sheer power of over eight hundred Space Marines in a single location was a force multiplier with few equals in the galaxy, and the Tyranids' momentum was blunted by the sheer fury of the sons of the Angel. Other Imperial units who kept their senses were able to rally, and push a wedge into the Tyranids, driving them back, inch by inch.

Phoros almost let the rush of a successful counterattack get to his head, until he made his way to his objective. The Chapter Master felt his newfound hope wither and die, replaced by the familiar, bitter taste of despair.

Shepard was dead.

She lay in a pool of her own blood, her body cut in half at the waist. The Alexian Guard stood in a protective circle around their charge, defiantly holding back any alien that would claim the fallen Saint's corpse. They wept, even as they fought; they were all wounded, and several had clearly pushed past the point of sanity to remain standing.

There were other Sisters of the Order of the Iron Tears around Shepard. They too wept tears of grief and rage as they poured bolter fire into the Tyranids. When they ran out of ammunition, they used spent bolters as clubs, and when those broke in their hands, they used their fists.

"We have pushed the xenos back," Phoros said to the Sororitas. The leader of the Alexian Guard looked up at him brokenly, tears pouring down her organic eye. "We are taking her home. You have done your duty."

The Zephyrim nodded. "We… we will take her to…" She paused. "I do not know where we should take her."

Phoros recalled a map of the area. "There is a temple not far from here. If she should rest anywhere, it should be in a house of the Emperor's worship."

Four of the least injured Alexian Guard lifted the halves of Shepard's body and reverently carried them from the battlefield. The rest of the Sororitas solemnly escorted them; they were in no shape to fight, so the Lamenters fell back with them.

"This is Chapter Master Phoros, of the Lamenters," Phoros said over the vox to the local units. "We have recovered Saint Shepard's body. Do not let her sacrifice be in vain; hold the line, and we will defeat these aliens.

"We will have revenge."

…

Pain. Darkness. Despair.

That was all she could process. She was a creature of reason and sense, but this was a place with neither of those things. She had died before—intellectually, she knew this—but the last time had been as a mere human. This time, she was connected to something much greater than any human, and in her own death, she felt a sliver of His own.

Even that was nearly enough to break her.

Over ten thousand years of agony, unable to do anything but silently scream as a dream died. How He could go on after that was inconceivable; even the short time she'd spent in this hell was pushing her to the brink of madness.

She reached out, but her arms would not obey her will. She opened her mouth—to beg, to scream, she did not know—but no sound came out. She wondered if she could cry, but not even her tears would come to her aid.

This place had no hope…

Except one.

An old, withered hand appeared out of the darkness, and gently took her own. She was pulled out of the shadows, and into a familiar place.

"Hello, my friend," Revelation said gently, and held her close. "I almost lost you."

Shepard's cane fell from her hand; she clutched onto the too-old man, and wept.

…

The war had reached a stalemate. The line had been breached, but it was contained for now. Despair had crept through the entire Crusade as news of Shepard's death spread, but it had been replaced with grim fury. A burning hatred sat in the belly of every man and woman, a fire that was stoked each time they raised a weapon to kill another alien.

For the commanders of the Crusade, the war didn't exist—not at that moment, at least. They had gathered in the temple to visit the fallen Saint. Each of them had visited over the last ten days, but this was the first time they had all managed to be there at the same time.

"I still cannot believe it," Helmin whispered. His skin was waxy and pale from lack of sleep. "She seemed invincible."

Hadrian Rex swayed on his feet; he had been fasting since he'd heard of Shepard's death, and he looked terrible.

"Where…" he rasped. "Where were her guards? It was their duty, their sworn oath, to protect her life with their own—but she died, and each of them still lives!"

Blaise wiped away her tears—not that it did much good. Like the rest of her sisters, Blaise had not stopped crying since Shepard had died. Somehow, the tears did not spoil their aim or distract them from their duties. Many claimed that it was some kind of divine sign, but no one was quite sure what the phenomenon meant.

"She was always headstrong," Blaise said quietly. "She fought the xenos leader-beast, while the Alexian Guard kept others from interfering in the fight."

"It is called the Swarmlord," Phoros said, his deep voice echoing throughout the mausoleum. "It is formed when the xenos require a leader of superlative ability. As long as it lives, the aliens will adapt faster; it must die, before the swarm grows too powerful."

"We have yet to find it," Zandtus said. "It hides in the shadows, directing its foul brood. Every attack probes our defenses further. I estimate that we will be overrun in three more days."

"What about the battle in space?" Helmin turned to the hologram of Dartan. "Could an orbital strike be possible?"

"Would that I were able," Dartan said. "We have chased the ship-beasts to the edge of the system, and are exterminating the remnants. Wolf Lord Blackmane has successfully destroyed the nerve-center of the beasts, but there is more to do. Even our fastest ships would take four days to reach you."

"And by then, we'll be dead." Vils knelt by Hiral, the only non-officer allowed to visit Shepard's body. "Come on, lad; up you get."

Hiral stared at the coffin with dead eyes, and Vils had to gently haul him to his feet. He guided the young man to the door, where the Seraphim who had escorted him there solemnly took him out. If Vils saw the Seraphim pull him into a tender embrace for a moment, he didn't comment.

"We are narrowing down the most likely places the Swarmlord could be hiding," Xem-Beta said, as if nothing had happened. "Each hour increases the likelihood of its location by another three percent."

"Thank you," Phoros responded. "Please, continue your efforts, Magos. We will send reconnaissance teams to those locations as soon as you narrow them down."

"The cogitators do their duty as we speak." Xem-Beta's optics whirred and clicked, and then he abruptly turned and left. "I will return to my ministrations on Saint Shepard's armor. It will be repaired soon."

Zandtus watched him go. "Shepard is dead. Why is he so focused on her armor?"

"Maybe he wants her to be buried in it," Helmin suggested.

Blaise shook her head. "I asked him to repair it. Should we survive this, she would want us to put her wargear to use, not let it gather dust."

Helmin nodded to the new addition to Blaise's arsenal. "I was wondering why you had that."

Blaise rested her hand on Liberator. "I am merely its steward. I am certain that a worthy wielder will present herself, but it is not me."

"This grief serves no one." Thankfully, the doors to the temple had been wide enough for Bjorn's mighty frame, but rather than joke about it as he once might, he had been silent for hours. "Shepard was the one lead we had to Lord Russ. With her gone, that chance may be forever lost. The beast responsible had dealt us all a blow—the Wolves have lost our father, the Imperium has lost a hero… and we have all lost a friend. Lord Phoros, Lord Zandtus—when the Swarmlord is found, it will be we three who bring it low. I mean no disrespect to the rest of you, but if that monster could defeat Shepard, only our greatest warriors stand a chance of killing it."

Helmin and Vils nodded wearily, but Blaise looked defiant. "This abomination has slain my Order's Matriarch. The rest of my sisters will fight the wider war, or guard Her Holiness' body, as is their duty, but I will not stand by and let others take my vengeance."

Zandtus, who had known her longer than the other two Space Marines, nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Well said, my friend. We will slay the beast together."

"Then let us gather our best warriors, and rest while we can," Bjorn said. "I sense that we will not wait long, one way or another."

…

Shepard was quiet for a long time. She sat next to Revelation, occasionally drawing random patterns in the dirt with her cane, but didn't speak.

"Death is always hard," Revelation said, "for those who will come back. It is only easy for those who only die once."

Shepard made a vague noise that might have been an agreement.

"I should apologize. I knew that there was a chance you could die, so I took precautions."

"And you didn't tell me… why?"

Shepard had become withdrawn emotionally, but also physically; with her head tilted down, she didn't see Revelation's relief when she spoke.

"I did not wish you to become arrogant, to fight without fear of death." Revelation looked up at the starlit sky. "I should never have removed that notion from the Primarchs. Fearlessness makes for good soldiers, but bad leaders. I thought that if you retained your humanity, it would strengthen your ability to resist the dark powers." He sighed. "But I also should have known that it could result in trauma."

"Yeah, this is on you." Shepard took a deep, shuddering breath; in her old body, it felt like glass entering her lungs. "How much longer before I go back?"

"Soon, I think." Revelation patted her knee. "Until then, I have something for you. A gift. Or an apology. I had planned to give it to you after you found the Wolf King, but then…"

"Then I died." Shepard closed her eyes and tried to banish the lingering dregs of terror; it didn't work, but she tried anyway. "What's the gift?"

"Consider it also a demonstration of how much your efforts have strengthened me." Revelation chuckled. "I was barely able to bring you to this universe, and only because you fell through that rift. I have regained enough power to temporarily send you back."

Shepard's eyes snapped open. "Back? Back to the Empire? Back home?"

"Only your soul," Revelation warned, "and only for a short time. You will not be able to interact with the world, but it would allow you to see those you love."

Tears dripped down Shepard's face again, but they were much happier than before. "I would do anything to see my son again. And Eleanor, and little Gregor and—" Shepard choked and sputtered. "Please. Please send me back."

"Very well." Revelation placed his hand on her head. "It will only be for a few minutes."

"It's a few minutes I never thought I'd have." Shepard smiled brokenly. "Just do it."

There was a pulse, a thrum of power, and everything went dark. For a moment, Shepard thought she was back in that hell, but then she felt a tug on her soul, and she started to move. The sensation grew faster and faster—then, it stopped.

Shepard opened her eyes.

She was home.

…

Xem-Beta was as excited as a Magos could be when, two days later, he announced that he knew where the Swarmlord was hiding.

"I cannot be completely positive," he admitted, "but there is an eighty-six percent chance that the beast is in the southern valley. There are other locations where it could be, but no matter what variables I use, the percentages only change by a negligible amount."

"We will send teams to the other locations, just in case," Phoros said. "But we are nearly out of time. We must place our faith your prediction, Magos; if you are wrong, then we are dead anyway."

"Then there is only the matter of destroying the beast," Bjorn cut in. "We must act swiftly."

"Our best warriors are ready." Zandtus rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "If nothing else, Shepard will be avenged."

Blaise said nothing; on the eleventh day after Shepard's death, the tears had finally stopped, but the Sororitas had come to the agreement that their souls had simply run out of grief. Now, there was only a cold hunger for revenge.

"Good hunting, my friends," Bjorn said, and then turned and stomped towards his transport. "May we see each other again in victory."

"Or at the Emperor's side," Phoros added quietly.

The Astartes left, but Blaise lingered for just a moment. "Magos, have you finished mending Saint Shepard's armor?"

"Affirmative," Xem-Beta replied. "I performed the final appeasement to the machine spirit myself."

"For now, leave it with her body." Blaise closed her eye in an effort to block out the sight of Shepard's mutilated remains, but to no avail. "If any of my sisters feel the Emperor's will direct them to the armor, they should claim it in her presence."

Xem-Beta only nodded; he didn't understand Blaise's faith, and his own beliefs had often clashed with the Ecclesiarchy's, but he respected Blaise enough do as she asked.

"If it will not cause offense," he said quietly, "I would prefer to remain with the armor as well. It is repaired, but there are still signs of battle that I would have removed."

Blaise laughed, but even Xem-Beta could hear how hollow it sounded. "She always did like everyone's equipment to look their best."

Xem-Beta nodded again. "You should hurry, or the Space Marines may go without you. Omnissiah grant you victory."

…

Shepard couldn't believe her eyes; it had been years since she'd set foot in her house in Nuln, even before she set off on what she'd thought was her final journey. In her waning years, she had given the house to her grandson, Gregor II, and moved into a much smaller home. She had said that she didn't need a big house, but the truth was that there were too many memories in that place—every room would remind her of friends and loved ones that were long dead.

For the first time in years, she walked the halls of her home with excitement, not grief. She was finally going to see David and Eleanor, perhaps little Gregor and his wife and son as well! Even if she couldn't hold them in her arms, just seeing their faces would be enough for the ache in her heart.

As she neared the stairs, she heard the muffled sound of crying. Who was crying? Had something happened? Shepard hurried upstairs, homing in on the sound. It came from her old bedroom, and she almost froze before she reached the threshold. Stronger memories assailed her there—memories of David as a baby, spending time with Eliza, or waking up next to Gregor…

She shook her head; she was strong enough to do this.

Shepard almost didn't recognize the people in the room, and when she did, she didn't understand. Everyone looked older; her grandson couldn't have been younger than fifty, and his little boy, Gregor III, was all grown up, with an arm around a young woman who cried into his chest.

And then there was the man on the bed, too weak to even raise his head. David had been in his late fifties when Shepard had left, but he looked much older now. His hair was gone, and his skin was even more withered than Shepard's had been.

"Son." David's voice was barely a rasp, and it sounded like it took all his strength just to speak. "Are you there?"

"I am, Father." Gregor II sat by his father's side and held his hand. "Everyone is here for you."

"I am… so tired." David slowly turned his face towards his son. "I do not want to leave you all."

"We will be fine, Father." Gregor II tried to maintain his composure, but he was failing. "And you get to see everyone again—Mother, your parents, and all their friends! You have nothing to worry about."

Shepard had drifted to just behind her grandson; at his words, she realized that Eleanor wasn't in the room. Had she died in the time Shepard had been gone? Shepard felt grief and regret twist inside her.

"I can see her." David was still weak, but the surprise in his voice startled everyone. "I can see you, Mother. Have you come to greet me? To take me to Sigmar's side?"

Shepard froze; David's eyes had locked onto hers. Somehow, despite Revelation's words, David could see her.

She wanted to cry, but her son needed her one last time.

"I'm here," she said, and cupped David's face in her hands. "You'll see everyone soon, David. They're all waiting for us."

"I miss them… I missed… you…"

Alexia Shepard held her son as he died. As his last breath passed his lips, she tilted her head back, and the tears flowed once more.

…

The valley was unusually quiet. The sound of Tyranids stalking, skittering or lumbering could be heard, but it was muted, and there was anticipation in the air.

"I think they're waiting for us," Phoros said. "The Swarmlord knows the importance of removing an enemy's leadership, and we are here now."

"The beast seeks a personal battle," Bjorn growled. "It has become confident after killing Shepard. It waits for us to enter its den."

Zandtus chuckled dryly. "It would be rude of us to refuse its invitation."

For all her simmering hatred, Blaise couldn't stop herself from rolling her eye. She had come to enjoy the odd humor from the Necropolis Hawks, and she had to remind herself that Shepard herself often approved of humor in dark times.

She then centered herself and double-checked her Condemnor-pattern boltgun. The Swarmlord was a psyker, and her weapon would turn its power against itself.

The rest of the strike force—which contained the elite of all four of their respective forces—spread out along the edges of the valley. While their leaders would engage the Swarmlord, their mission was to ensure that their battle went uninterrupted.

For her part, Blaise didn't really care; all she wanted was revenge for her martyred Matriarch, commander, and friend. For the Order of the Iron Tears to lose its Matriarch before its first year, it was a shame that could only be washed away with the blood of the foe, and Blaise would not rest until she saw that shame erased.

"I saw it," Zandtus said tersely, all humor gone as he returned from scouting ahead. "Four swords—it's definitely the Swarmlord."

"What was it doing?" Phoros asked.

"Absolutely nothing," Zandtus replied.

"You know it is likely a trap," Phoros said.

"You are likely right," Blaise said, her voice a deadly calm. "But I do not care."

"Good." Bjorn spun the barrels of his assault cannon, and clenched Trueclaw. "Just so long as we are all in agreement."

The four leaders stepped into view of the Swarmlord, who was hunched over in preparation. It rose to its full, impressive height and held its swords out as it roared. Bjorn answered with a roar of his own and charged, assault cannon spitting hot death as he moved. Phoros was right behind him, ready to get in close with his own weapons; Zandtus and Blaise split up and covered their flanks, firing as they ran.

High-caliber rounds lodged into the Swarmlord's carapace, but did little damage, until Blaise fired a consecrated stake from the crossbow attachment of her bolter. It caused a feedback effect from the Swarmlord's psychic powers, and blood poured from its eyes. Its next roar was a mixture of rage and pain as it fired a blast of bio-energy; it caught Blaise in the leg, shattering her armor and mangling the limb, but she continued to fire bolt rounds, even as she fell.

Bjorn got to grips with the alien then, Trueclaw punching deep into the Swarmlord's chest. He took four blows across his metal hide in response, each blade cutting deep, but not damaging his systems. With a shocking display of strength, the Swarmlord hooked two swords against him and threw him a dozen meters away, where he crashed to the ground.

The other two blades caught Phoros' Glaive Encarmine before it landed, and then hurled him back as well. Only a desperate roll across the ground prevented Phoros from being impaled, but then the Swarmlord's hoof-like foot lashed out; the kick landed square on his chest, and he was sent flying back next to Blaise. He leaped to his feet, and then scooped the fallen Canoness up in one arm and ran before they were both killed by another blast of psychic energy.

Seeing that his auto bolt rifle was doing little, Zandtus charged in as well. His power sword slipped past the Swarmlord's guard and into its leg. The beast roared again and smashed the hand—fused to where the handle of its sword would be—into Zandtus' head, shattering half of his helm. He tossed the remnants of it away and avoided a riposte that would have taken his arm off; blood dripped down the side of his head, only for the hyper-coagulants in his system to seal up the bleeding.

"For the Emperor!" he shouted. "For Shepard!"

The Swarmlord roared again, and the battle resumed.

…

Shepard was quiet for a long time—so long, in fact, that Revelation looked worried.

"I am sorry," he said as he poked at the fire. "I was able to send you to the living soul you had the most attachment to. I had no idea that he was on the verge of death."

"It makes no sense," Shepard finally said. "He wasn't that old when I left. Why did so much time pass? It's been less than seven years here."

"You told me once that time moved at different speeds between your first home and your second." Revelation stroked his beard with one hand. "Perhaps the same applies between your second home and your third."

Shepard glanced at him; her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was still wet from the tears. "I just watched my son die. I'm really not in the mood for a discussion on temporal physics."

"Again, I cannot apologize enough." Revelation's smile was bitter and sad. "After all that has been done to you, you should not have had to see that."

Shepard wiped at her eyes. "No parent should outlive their children. That's not something I'd wish on my worst enemy."

"Considering who some of your worst enemies have been, that is quite a claim." Revelation peered into the fire intently, but if he saw anything, it escaped Shepard. "You are almost ready to return, but I have a question."

"Go ahead."

Revelation paused, as if considering what he was about to say. "Despite my intentions, I hurt you far more than I helped. To ask you to keep fighting would be cruel, but I have no other options. Will you help me?" He hesitated again. "You can refuse."

For a long moment, Shepard considered it. "What would happen to me? And what about the mission?"

"The Imperium has endured for over ten thousand years," Revelation said. "With three Primarchs, it may endure long enough for me to come up with a new solution… but you remain the best hope the galaxy has.

"As for what will happen to you… I am not sure. I can only assume that you will go where all untainted souls go when they die."

Shepard looked up at the starry sky. "My husband would be disappointed if I gave up on saving an entire galaxy. My son saw me as his hero, and I did my best not to let him down. Both of them are gone now; if I do end up wherever they are, I'd want them to be proud of me for doing one more good thing in the universe." She sighed. "Besides, I'd never forgive myself if I left all my people behind before the job was done.

"Send me back in," she said, her voice carrying a weariness that even Revelation could empathize with. "I'm not finished out there."

"Very well." Revelation's smile was impossibly sad, and he looked deep into the fire once again.

…

Shepard's eyes snapped open, and she took her first living breath in days.

…

Hadrian Rex knelt by the casket, hands clasped and eyes shut as he quietly prayed. He prayed for victory, he prayed for the Emperor's protection—but most of all, he prayed for the salvation of Shepard's soul. As a member of the Ecclesiarchy, Rex had seen many things that were classified as miracles, but he considered himself blessed for being one of the comparatively few to fight alongside a Living Saint. Ever since the Crusade began, he had watched Shepard perform many miracles—from outright destroying the forces of Chaos, to guiding her fleet safely through the Warp.

He grieved for the loss the Imperium had suffered, for Shepard had been a brighter light than many others in this dark time. He also grieved because someone he considered a friend was gone.

Like many times since Shepard's death, Rex felt a spike of anger towards the Alexian Guard, as it was their duty to keep her safe. That anger faded, like it always did, when he saw what had become of them. The Alexian Guard, mostly healed from their many injuries, stood protectively around the casket; their wargear still showed signs of recent battle, and more than one of them had needed replacement weapons. But it was their spirits that remained broken; unlike the other Sororitas, whose tears had been an inexplicable phenomenon, the Alexian Guard wept out of unending grief. Tears still dripped out from under their helms, falling down their armor and onto the floor. Only their sheer faith and dedication to their Matriarch kept them on their feet, and that was why Rex could not bring himself to hate them. Shepard's death had been a failure on their part, yes, but it was a tragedy, not a lack of faith or skill.

Thud

Rex was brought out of his thoughts by a noise. At first, he thought it was Xem-Beta, who had been laboring on Shepard's armor next to her casket—but then he remembered that the actual work had been finished yesterday, and hadn't returned.

Thud

This time, the Alexian Guard heard the sound as well. Despite their still-healing injuries, they snapped to combat readiness in an instant. Rex drew his power maul and turned around, determined to punish any who might have intruded on the Saint's resting place.

Thud-crash!

It took almost a full three seconds for Rex to comprehend that a fist had just smashed out of the casket. A glowing beam of light shot out of the hole; a moment later, the entire casket exploded in a shower of splinters. When Rex's vision returned after the blinding flash, he beheld another miracle.

Shepard was alive.

She stepped down from the altar she had been resting on, barely looking at Rex as she strode past. Her eyes, glowing almost white with power, were locked on her armor; as if reacting to her thoughts, the armor broke apart and flew to its mistress, assembling around her body faster than an entire team of armorers.

"Your Holiness…" Carolya prostrated herself, as did the other Alexian Guard. Only Rex remained standing, but only out of shock.

Still, it was a good thing he did, for he was the only one who saw Shepard's face. Tears of golden light fell in lines down her cheeks, and her smile was sad as she knelt in front of her guards.

"You've been through a lot, haven't you?" Shepard pulled Carolya up onto her knees and embraced the other woman. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long. We're going to have a talk when I get back."

Carolya blinked; for the first time in days, she was no longer crying. "Back?"

Shepard's smile turned a little playful. "Yeah, I've got to take care of something." She reached for something on her hip, but found only air. "And I've gotta get my weapon back."

Before anyone could so much as raise a hand in protest, Shepard's wings materialized, and she rocketed into the air, straight through the ceiling and into the sky.

Rex hurried towards the door, desperate to find a vox. He had to spread the word—everyone needed to know that Saint Shepard had returned.

…

Blaise slowly crawled away from the Swarmlord, who roared victoriously over her. The shattered remains of her boltgun, along with most of her bionic hand, lay out of reach, and what was left of her leg couldn't hold her upright. Most of her bones were broken, her armor was ruined, and her vision was spotty. Dimly, she realized that she was probably going into her shock; not even her faith was enough to sustain her shattered body.

The Space Marines were hardly in better shape, though they were all still on their feet. Zandtus' chest had been cut open, and both his arms were broken, though his right still had enough strength to hold his sword. Phoros had been impaled through the gut by the Swarmlord's tail, and his Glaive Encarmine was out of reach, embedded in the monster's back. He continued to fire Catechist, but a psychic barrier absorbed the worst of the melta fire.

That Bjorn's frame still functioned was a miracle in itself; horrible rents covered his metal body, and his assault cannon had been torn off several minutes earlier. He still fought with Trueclaw, and had even landed a telling blow that had clearly broken something, but he was slower, and had one arm to the Swarmlord's four. It was only a matter of time before the ancient Dreadnought was killed.

The two wrestling behemoths moved closer, and Blaise barely recognized the pain as a foot—whether Bjorn's or the Swarmlord's, she couldn't tell—kicked her in her already shattered ribs. She was sent flying through the air, and landed in a heap; she felt something snap, but her attention had focused on a single thing, to the exclusion of even her pain.

Until now, Liberator had remained firmly secured on her hip. She hadn't dared use it, even when her power sword was snapped in half. Now, it was sailing through the air, and out of sight—shame cut through the pain as her Matriarch's weapon was lost, possibly forever.

There was a crash of metal, and Bjorn collapsed nearby; the bloody forms of Zandtus and Phoros followed a moment later. The wounded Swarmlord roared its victory to the heavens, and raised its swords to finish off the wounded heroes…

Until Liberator, flying at incredible speeds, smashed into its back with enough force to drive it to its knees. Wreathed in a familiar golden aura, it halted before it hit the ground, and then flew back into the hands of its mistress. Blaise's heart soared as she saw her Matriarch, alive and whole again, land like an avenging angel on the battlefield.

"Hey, you!" The Swarmlord turned and glared as Shepard pointed at it with her free hand. "Round two, cockroach."

The massive Tyranid roared again and charged, which was met by Shepard. Even in Blaise's addled state, she could see a noticeable difference in the fight. Shepard was fast, faster than she'd ever seen before, and brought the bladed half of Liberator onto the Swarmlord's bottom-left wrist before Blaise could blink. Then, using the momentum from that strike, Shepard swung up, burying the blade into its chest; surprisingly, she let go of her weapon, and then darted around behind the Swarmlord.

Blaise tried to voice a warning when she saw the tail come up, but her words failed her when Shepard caught the appendage with one hand.

"Not this time, bitch." Shepard pinned the tail to the ground, and ripped off the grasping claw with hardly any effort. She then flew up and yanked Phoros' weapon out of the Swarmlord's back with a wash of blood, and tossed it to its owner's feet.

"Get up!" Shepard commanded, and her voice seemed to reach into their very souls. "If you can stand, you can fight!"

The Swarmlord swung one of its remaining swords, but Shepard easily flew around it, and landed on its head. She grabbed the bladed crest with one hand, then crouched so that she could punch the alien in the eye, which burst in a fountain of gore.

"For those we cherish," Phoros said as he spat out blood and charged, "we die in glory!"

While Phoros stabbed into the Swarmlord's leg, Zandtus hacked off another arm and shouted his own Chapter's battle cry. "We claim this domain for the Emperor!"

"For Russ and the Allfather!" Bjorn forced his battered frame up and swung Trueclaw in a wide arc; he caught the Swarmlord in the mouth, shattering teeth and nearly tearing its lower jaw off.

Blaise could only watch as three lords of the Astartes forced themselves past their limits to fight alongside the Living Saint. It was a scene she knew would be told about in dramas across the Imperium for centuries to come.

With two arms gone and its body horribly broken, the Swarmlord fell to one knee; it hissed defiantly, only to be smashed to the ground when Shepard brought the hammer-side of Liberator into its head. She stood over the beast, wings outstretched and weapon raised; for a moment, it looked like she was going to say something, but then thought better of it, and simply smashed the Swarmlord's head into paste.

As if a switch had been thrown, the nearby Tyranids that had been fighting in the valley were suddenly in disarray. In their almost feral state, they were easily destroyed by the Space Marines and Sororitas. Unbeknownst to Blaise, the loss of the Swarmlord had triggered a similar effect across the planet, and as word spread of Shepard's resurrection, the Tyranids' momentum was finally broken.

There would be more battles, but the war was as good as won.

…

"You continue to surprise me, little Saint," Gabriel Seth said as he wiped gore from his massive chainsword. It didn't do much good, and Shepard wondered if he just did it out of habit. "Not many can claim to have defeated a Swarmlord."

"I had help," Shepard said modestly, "and it was already hurt when I got there."

"And the slaughter that followed has been most cathartic." Seth laughed; it sounded like broken stones grinding against each other. "I almost enjoyed myself today."

With the death of the Swarmlord, the remaining Tyranids were easy prey for the Imperials, especially when news of Shepard's revival spread. If anything, the humans fought twice as hard to make up for their perceived lack of faith when she'd died. Several regiments, and more than a few of the Sororitas, had begun self-flagellation in penance, until Shepard told them that destroying the aliens would more than make up for any failures on their part. Hearing that, the Crusade had begun purging the xenos with even more zeal than before.

Several days after the Swarmlord's death, Imperial reinforcements arrived, including the Flesh Tearers, and a small reclamation fleet from Imperium Sanctus that happened to be nearby. With their numbers bolstered, Xem-Beta estimated that the planet would be purged of alien life in another week, but Shepard would not see the process finished.

"You leave today, yes?" Seth asked.

"Yeah, but I know the kids will have the place cleaned up by the time I get back." Shepard looked up at the stars. "I don't know how much longer this opening will last, and I have to make the most of it."

When Shepard had returned to life, a massive pulse of anti-Chaos power and pushed back the Warp's influence, and now that things had calmed down, she had found that the wayfinder had pointed her in a new direction. The hunt for Leman Russ was back on track, but when Shepard realized where she was going next, she had informed the Crusade that only a small escort would be going with her.

"It is a dangerous place," Seth warned unnecessarily.

"Of course it is," Shepard said. "It's called the Eye of Terror for a reason."

Shepard's back, but only at the cost of immense tragedy. Sorry, Shepard, but this is 40K, and no one is allowed to be happy.

Seriously, though, I have messed with Shepard far more than I should have, and I rightfully feel terrible about it. Let's see for a second…

Her parents were murdered by Batarians when she was a child. The events of the Mass Effect games happened—including the deaths of friends, countless innocents, and her own death. Anderson, who was like a father to her, died in front of her. She landed in the Warhammer Fantasy world, had to kill a little girl who was a vampire, got eaten by a squig, her son was nearly killed by a vampire in front of her, her adopted sister (who had been traumatized by her mother's murder at the hand of the Dark Elves) was mutilated by another vampire, she was tortured by a frog, many of her friends died, and her husband was murdered in front of her. She then spent fifty years grieving.

And that was before coming to 40K!

So, yes, I'm a horrible human being.

But, hey, at least the battle against the 'nids is over. Time to go into literal space-hell to find a demigod werewolf Viking.

The more I say it, the more I realize just how close to insanity 40K has driven me.

Also, as to why Shepard was so easily able to whup the Swarmlord? From what I've seen from Celestine, Living Saints tend to be at their most powerful shortly after they come back to life. Don't expect Shepard to be this powerful all the time. And the Swarmlord was hurt by the time she got there.

And if the fight between the Imperials and the Swarmlord reminded anyone of the fight in Avengers Endgame with Cap, Thor and Iron Man against Thanos… yeah, it was inspired. Along with the 'Round two, cockroach' line, which was taken from the fight between Marneus Calgar and the Swarmlord in the TTS universe. I love that scene.

As always, please consider buying my book, Alpha Sanction, by Josh Gottlieb. You can find it as a PDF on my site (link in my profile), or in eBook and physical format on Amazon. Sales are good for me, and you get a book to read.

If you don't want to buy my book (or have already done so, in which case, thank you), you can support me on P-atreon (link in my profile). Every dollar donated brings me one step closer to having my own place to live, along with the underground laboratory where I can develop my army of robots in peace.

Thank you to the following patrons:

Serious Muffins: jafr86, SpaceEmperorSpar, Nimrod009, Anders Lyngbye, Matthias Matanovic, ChaosSpartan575, John Collins, Red Bard, Aaron Meek, Shaolin Khalil, killroy225

Incredible Muffins: RaptorusMaximus, michaelb958, Crazyman844

Ultra Muffins: Adam Costello, Matthew Bunting, RangersRoll

Next Chapter: Shepard journeys into the Eye of Terror, and a son discovers the fate of his father.

Stay safe out there.

For the Muffin of Him on Terra!