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As the first rays of dawn filtered into her spartan quarters, Commander Shepard stirred from her restless slumber.
She rose quickly, her movements a cascade of purpose, and donned her battle-worn armour.
As she fastened the last component, her eyes fixed on the reflection in the visor. There, she saw not just a soldier, but a symbol of hope, a beacon in the darkest of nights. With the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, she turned to face the day ahead.
She was a force of nature, a tempest awaiting its chance to roar.
Be afraid, Reapers.
She’s coming.