Legend

by THE UNKNOWN PONY

Chapters

Patrol: Moon
The Tower
The Traveler
In Orbit: Equis
The Foreboding Forest
Prelude: The Collapse

Patrol: Moon

"An ancient instrument of war, battered and worn - but it still fires true. Perhaps it's been waiting for you."

Khvostov 7G-02 Auto Rifle weapon description

Earth's Moon

The Sea of Storms

What is a Warlock?

A Titan would tell you a Warlock is a person who likes to spout arcane nonsense and generally have a boring outlook on everything.

A Hunter would tell you a Warlock is an egghead who likes to wear dresses.

As a Warlock, I take mild offense to that. We wear robes, or if you want to get technical, trench coats. Not dresses!

The whole "boring outlook", though? Kind of true. Don't tell Ikora I said that.

As for a more serious answer...

Warlocks are the warrior-scholars of the Light. A foil to the trigger discipline of Hunters and the abundant physical strength of Titans, Warlocks are most attuned to the applications of pure Light, which includes the channeling and transmutation of Light into usable forms of energy during battle.

But that was only the half of it. While a Warlock's power is formidable on its own, much of their strength stems from mental acumen and intellect.

At their core, Warlocks are thinkers on and off the battlefield. It is not uncommon for one to be less focused on a battle with the Fallen and more focused on the quark-splitting properties of a new Warlock Bond. Warlocks, particularly Exo Warlocks, are known to and are expected to be methodical, even callous about their jobs. Despite myself, I am guilty of these things at times.

Moreover, it has been extensively purported by the Warlock Orders that anger is a wasted emotion. "Gaining control of your temper first and foremost is essential to gaining control of the battlefield," it is said.

If these things are anything to judge by, then I am not a very good Warlock. But damn it, if all my Legendary Engrams turn into Ascendant Energy on a regular basis when decrypted, I think I have a right to be angry!

"Just take the shot already."

And just like that, my mind returned to the Moon.

I nudged my thoughts out of the forefront of my mind while simultaneously ignoring the otherworldly thrum of my Ghost's voice, focusing solely on my target - a Fallen Dreg who had wandered away from its scouting party to pick at some half-buried helium coils. Crouching atop my sniping vantage point, I watched the creature of the Darkness with disdain as it began to loom over its discovery like a vulture, keeping my sniper rifle's crosshairs trained squarely on its back. The situation faintly alluded to past blunders...

And just like that, my train of thought powered up as quickly as I had shut it off. Images of my first patrol in the Russian Cosmodrome, as well as fumbling with my first weapon at my first enemy, permeated and flashed through my partly artificial synapses.

Now that I thought about it, at the exact moments the events transpired, it was hell; now, those situations just seemed like the good old times. Simpler times, without any eldritch machine abominations to worry about.

"You've been sitting there, crouched, aiming at the same target for five minutes. Just shoot it already," my Ghost said in exasperation as it hovered near me.

'Ghosts will never have an appreciation for sentimentality...' I thought to myself.

"..." I didn't outwardly reply, instead opting to leer at my target through the sniper scope. The abominable creature was still none the wiser. Once again, like the hopeless nostalgic that I was, my mind threatened to stray back into a solipsism-like state.

Fortunately for the hapless Dreg, it was saved from being the subject of my musings by a certain cyclopic Ghost, who moved into the way of my scope. Ponderations interrupted, I lowered my Amina-E7 sniper rifle and looked into the construct's eye with a hint of annoyance.

Come on now Guardian, don't act like you were actually going to shoot it before I intervened," Ghost said with its usual chipper tone, though there was an undeniable hint of concern and frustration in its voice.

'Oh, here we go again...' I thought resignedly, sensing the incoming rant.

"Ever since we made it out of the Black Garden and the Vault, you've been overly contemplative. More than usual. More than normal for a Warlock, actually. And you've been stopping your little Fallen killing sprees every now and then just to stare at random enemies as if you've found a long lost friend. Call me sappy if you want, but I worry about you.

Machines couldn't truly worry. I should know, now shouldn't I?

All things considered, I understood my Ghost's concern. Somewhat. After the Black Garden, me and a friend of mine were invited to a mission by a team of four able-looking Guardians around our skill level. The two of us usually don't team up with others, as more than two or three in a fireteam complicates things, but this was different.

They were going to raid the legendary Vault of Glass.

Naturally, being the adventure-seekers that we are, we couldn't in the right mind turn down an invitation like that. Together with our new, expanded fireteam, we descended down into the Vault, fought for our lives, grabbed what we could, took down Vex of tremendous power, and subsequently escaped. We wouldn't even have come close to surviving if not for a powerful Relic of Light we found and used to our advantage. It was because of that Relic that we did not end up like the The Legionless Titan, Kabr, and his Fireteam.

I did not come out of the Vault completely unscathed, however. Since the raid, I was prone to experiencing constant, volatile flashbacks of sorts. Of past missions, of times I died, of my patrols...of the Vault...

I was not the only one having problems, I soon discovered. My five fellow raiders, consisting of Awoken and humans, complained (well, not complained, per se. Guardians are often too prideful to admit there's something wrong with them) of headaches and strange dreams. One of my former comrades even confessed of waking up feeling his heart beating to an unknown pattern; another felt like her helmet was compelling her to do certain less-than-altruistic things. It was as if all of us were marked for life, and what was in the Vault scarred us forever.

But back to reality.

My Ghost's eye trailed to the gun I wielded, which I now held loosely at my side. "And what's up with you and that sniper rifle, anyway? You unceremoniously picked it up off the ground a little while ago, dusted it off, and now you're treating it like a gift from the Traveler."

Disregarding the irony from that particular statement, I finally graced my Ghost with an answer. "It's rare," I replied stiffly.

My Ghost blinked its single eye once, then replied, "You've literally got an arsenal to choose from; the most fabled and exotic weapons, and you're using an old sniper rifle you found in a dingy cave?"

I shrugged. Truth was, I frankly enjoyed finding and using "rare" weapons at times because there was always an element of unpredictability about them. So many variations and modifications to be used... It was like using a completely different weapon each time. I mean, sure, I would never use a rare during anything but patrols, but all Guardians had to start from somewhere. The Amina-E7 reminded me of such times...

Exos hate to forget, you see. The fact that most Exos, exceptions being Banshee-44 and a few others, are physically incapable of unwillingly forgetting anything, yet we cannot remember the details of our lives before we became Guardians, is enough to drive one mad. Most eventually deign to not think about it.

I think about it, all the time. Who I was before I was resurrected, I always question. I suppose I would be elsewhere, like helping the Last City rebuild or the Traveler recover or some other productive use of my abilities, if I wasn't so existential.

One would think I would spend a supercomputer's worth of processing power on something actually lucrative, no?

I gently brushed my Ghost out of the way. The floating polygonal construct went on to voice its indignation, but I shushed it and pointed at the Dreg, even though I knew full well that the Fallen minion could not hear either of us due to the distance gap. My Ghost gave up trying to make me see its backward reasoning and vanished into the pocket dimension in which Ghosts most often sulk in when their Guardians get annoyed with them. With distractions minimized, I retrained my crosshairs back onto my target, hoping that it had not moved in the few moments I lowered my weapon.

...And said Dreg was still in the same spot, struggling with both hands to pull at one of the glowing yellow helium coils protruding out from the gray expanse, utterly oblivious to everything else in the corporeal world.

I shook my head and felt something akin to disappointment, but not quite as sympathetic. Inattentiveness spelt a death sentence in these parts, considering this was territory disputed by Fallen, Hive, and Guardians all at once. A Hive Ogre could have been running rampant while firing its eye lasers at a full Guardian Fireteam, for all the Dreg knew.

The Fallen minion finally succeeded in yanking the coil out from the earth, only to topple onto its back from the unbalanced exerted force. The Dreg looked at the coil, apparently in disbelief that its effort actually paid off, before committing to twist it open in order to get at the precious helium filaments therein. The scene was reminiscent of a five-year old human child attempting to open a stubborn jar.

'If all Fallen are this mind-numbingly stupid,' I mused, 'I wonder how they nearly wiped out humans following the Collapse.' Clearly, Fallen do not comprehend the complexities involved in the opening of a helium coil. The process doesn't merely consist of twisting and scratching!

Somewhat mollified that I can correct such a blight on sapient life with a measly pull of the trigger, I tightened my grip on the rifle and prepared to do so. Alas, to my dismay, the Dreg's scouting party finally realized one of their own was missing and backtracked. They arrived at the scene and witnessed the Dreg's admittedly pitiful display of salvaging. Briefly lamenting the coming and going of an easy opportunity to rid the galaxy of one exceptionally unintelligent Fallen minion, I took it upon myself to evaluate the new arrivals' collective threat potential, as the scouting group had not noticed my presence atop my improvised vantage point. Utilizing my scope once more, I scanned the group, taking in every little detail and nuance in my enemies' movements.

Two Fallen Vandals. I recognized one as a sniper, judging by the distinctive Wire Rifle that it toted in two of its four arms. Another appeared to be a Stealth Vandal as indicated by my heads-up display, its twin blades illuminated in the reflective light of Earth. I took note of its inactive camouflage; it was an uncommon sight to see a Vandal capable of invisibility not using the ability, barring the situations in which they break cloak, like when they attack or get shot.

Three Fallen Dregs. They looked virtually identical to their less intelligent Dreg comrade over by the coils. They were mediocrely armed, only wielding Shock Pistols, and likely would only serve as fodder in a direct confrontation.

Three Fallen Shanks. Noble Shanks, by the looks of it, which meant the hovering machines possessed medium shielding and moderately powerful swivel turrets. For an novice Guardian, Noble Shanks may pose a problem. Fortunately, I was far from ill-equipped or inexperienced.

And finally, sticking out like a sore thumb, was a Reaver Captain. Carrying itself around with an aura of authority and rightful arrogance, this breed of Fallen towered above its lesser brethren in both rank and stature, with intricately designed, intimidating armor and a large Shrapnel Launcher to complement the whole 'huge and imposing' package. A worn but regal-looking cape depicting the Fallen House it served swayed aimlessly from its back, and served as an indication of superior status in the Fallen hierarchy. Captains' armor is usually fortified by heavy shielding, so I did not expect this one to be any less protected. I subconsciously marked the Captain as a priority target, as it was the most capable of dishing out substantial damage to my own Light shields and armor.

All in all, not a difficult fight in the slightest, provided I be careful. I didn't fight my way out of the Black Garden and the Vault of Glass so I could be bested by some random Fallen scavengers.

As I finished my evaluation of the enemy forces, I noticed an interesting spectacle unfolding between the Captain and the Dreg who got separated from the group. The Captain stomped over to the Dreg and looked down on the creature, who craned its neck up to look at its superior and began trembling as it acknowledged the gargantuan size difference. The Captain began to brutally reprimand the Dreg in the form of yelling right in its face. I imagined the Captain was furious that a grunt would abandon the group for the sake of petty salvage.

Well, not that I could tell it was yelling. The only thing I could hear in the airtight atmosphere of my helmet was my steady pseudo-breathing and the ever-so-slight creak of synthetic joints as I calibrated my scope for optimal spying.

"Ghost, you getting this?"

My Ghost appeared from thin air above my right shoulder. "Yeah. There isn't much visual intel of how the Fallen interact with one another. Maybe the Cryptarchs would appreciate it if we documented this ourselves on camera." The floating construct's shell tilted outward slightly. "Er, on Ghost," it corrected itself.

"You think they might find this useful?" I asked, unsure of the tactical viability of the intel.

The Ghost blinked once, then replied, "Really? These are the Cryptarchs we're talking about. You know, the ones that send us on missions to scan obsolete technology in exchange for decrypting engrams?"

"Point taken." I said. To be honest, I was a bit glad that my Ghost had adopted my wry sense of humor to help spice up otherwise bland patrol missions.

I wasn't going to tell it that, of course. The admission would go straight to its head...shell...whatever Ghosts use to think. Though I was pretty certain that Ghosts' minds are housed in incredibly complex Light processing matrices, which in turn are encapsulated in their central shell, but that was too long and cumbersome to say, much less metaphorize.

My Ghost and I tuned back in to the scene with the Fallen Captain and Dreg. The argument, if it could be called that at all, was incredibly one-sided. The Captain howled (silently, from my perspective) in fury while the diminutive Dreg occasionally took the chance to mewl out a response. The scene had progressed to the point where it almost comically looked like one of those archaic silent movies from long before the Golden Age, complete with exaggerated hand gestures and arm flailing.

Any humor I may have garnered from the impromptu shouting match evaporated as the Captain brandished an outlandishly large shock blade and proceeded to gut the struggling Dreg on the the spot. The Dreg immediately ceased its futile kicking and squirming as its innards spilled onto the lunar ground, painting the moon dust a reddish hue. Having seen much worse, I didn't wince at the macabre sight. That didn't make it any less despicable, though.

"Looks like Fallen don't take insubordination lightly. Shall I send this footage to the Cryptarchs?"

"Go ahead."

My Ghost "nodded" once before disappearing, effectively telling me it's my call on what to do next.

'Well, if you insist...'

I refocused on on the Fallen Captain. The Captain was occupied with scraping its former subordinate's ichor off its blade. The other Fallen formed a perimeter around the leader while being sure to give the foul-tempered Captain a wide berth, and stood sentinel as the ringleader brooded over its sullied weapon.

I lined up the shot, directly at the Captain's noggin. Little air resistance, no distractions, nothing to save my target from its imminent cranial perforation. I was in a state of limbo, and all that existed was me, my rifle, and my quarry. If this was how Hunters felt before performing an assassination, I envied them.

Only a little.

I crouched stock-still as I pulled the trigger...

'Incoming transmission!' My Ghost exclaimed from inside my head.

My aim jerked slightly out of reflex from the sudden interruption. The bullet soundlessly sped about a meter left of my target's head. The Captain didn't seem to notice, but a few its subordinates did, and promptly alerted the whole scouting group. I dove for cover behind a large moon rock just a second before they opened fire on my previous position.

"And this is why I don't snipe." I said.

'Because you get distracted easily?' The insufferable Ghost asked smugly.

A trio of arc rounds whizzed past my rocky cover. I synthesized a grunt. Can't do a simple damned thing without shit going down around me or someone interrupting me.

'Well, regardless of whether you get moody or not,' my Ghost said, gauging my emotions, "we've got an urgent message from the Tower. They're calling us back."

I nonchalantly dismissed the notion. The "urgent" message most likely was from some City faction eager to use a Guardian for doing their dirty work. I realized the biting irony of that notion, as I was currently on a mission on behalf of the Future War Cult, one of the core City factions. Which was, incidentally, the one I found myself aligned with.

"Can it wait for a bit? I'm in the middle of some-"

'Hold on.' The disembodied voice paused. I tried my best to wait patiently as my cover was pelted by energy projectiles. I took a quick glance at my radar, finding out that my Fallen adversaries were not advancing on my position. Yet. 'Mission parameters just got updated.'

The Ghost left the safety of its pocket dimension, reappearing in front of me. "It's from the Speaker... He said to come back as quickly as possible, and that it's about the Traveler!"

Even with my helmet on, my surprise was palpable. Nobody, even the Speaker in his perpetual aura of mysticism, has heard much of anything from the Traveler ever since the Collapse, so this could mean only one thing: that the Traveler was on the road to recovery, or was about to die off completely. I sincerely hoped it was not the latter, because that would spell a horrible fate for humanity, the Exos, and maybe the Awoken. I didn't know about the Awoken. A good amount of them (sans those who are Guardians and/or earth-born, such as Commander Zavala and a certain friend of mine) didn't seem concerned about the other races' well-beings. The Queen of the Reef's brother certainly seemed like he wouldn't be perturbed in the slightest if all humans, even the Exos and earth-born Awoken, just spontaneously died off. Just as I wouldn't be bothered if he randomly exploded or something...

Oh, right, the Traveler.

If the Speaker needed help again, then I had a job again; a purpose, aside from destroying minions of the Darkness. That was simply an added benefit of being a Guardian, and those Fallen mooks seemed to spawn infinitely, anyway.

"Let me just finish some stuff off before we go back to orbit, okay?"

"You'd better make this quick. I doubt you want to miss this any less than I do," the Ghost said before disappearing.

"That, I don't," I succinctly affirmed.

But as much as I looked forward to finding out what the Speaker had in store for me, I had an obligation to fulfill first. Namely, I still had to dispatch the enemies that were beginning to close in on my poor excuse for cover, and scavenge what the Cult needed from their corpses. On my heads-up display, a large red blip on my radar confirmed the imminent presence of encroaching hostiles. Most likely scenario: the Captain sent the Dregs to investigate if I was dead. If I was not, then their orders were shoot to kill.

Foolish. Death was a temporary inconvenience. And that was if they managed to put me down.

I dematerialized the Amina-E7 sniper I held in my hands and stored it in my Ghost's portable pocket dimension, replacing the weapon with a Proxima Centauri II scout rifle. Eying the approaching enemies from my radar, I laid in ambush, waiting for the enemies to come closer.

Closer.

Closer, even.

Practically on the opposite side of the rock I was taking cover behind.

Time to strike.

Swiftly, I vaulted out of cover and immediately conjured a Vortex Grenade in my left hand. I tossed it at the trio of Dregs about a meter away, who leapt back in surprise at the abrupt attack. Upon hitting the ground where the group stood, the grenade transmogrified into a miniature singularity.

Like the slightly sadistic bastard that I am, I briefly reveled in the Fallens' anguished howls as they were sucked into the diminutive (but still deadly) black hole and compacted into atoms. A mere second after the three Dregs were completely atomized, the miniature black hole imploded unceremoniously.

Vaporization via singularity was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful aspects of being a Warlock.

I was not allowed a second of admiration for the carnage the grenade caused, however. In the corner of my eyesight I spotted the easily distinguishable Wire Rifle powering up from afar. With a practiced motion borne of experience, I sidestepped the incoming energy-based sniper round, the shot careening past my side. I brandished my scout rifle, and speedily aligned the sniping Vandal, who was perched on a small elevated platform, with the mid-range scope of my rifle. The Proxima Centauri II's mantra echoed in my mind.

'Just one...gentle...tap.'

Tap.

The first bullet impacted the Vandal in the chest, staggering it. The second perforated its skull, the headshot instantly killing the Vandal. The third hit it in the shoulder as its corpse fell.

The third shot was completely unnecessary, I admit, but since I'd killed so many things that so steadfastly refused to die in my career as a Guardian, I liked to make sure to add a bit of incentive.

A barrage of energy projectiles impacted me from the side and made a moderate dent in my shields, making me turn my attention to the three Noble Shanks closing in from a few meters away. Out in the open and with no decent cover in the immediate vicinity, I opted to face the threat with a vendetta and a loaded gun.

It was fundamental strategy that was in practice long before I was even created, but it still worked like a charm in the 28th century.

I atomized my scout rifle and unslung my trusty Invective automatic shotgun from my back. Since the weapon's rounds were infused with Solar energy, Invective's shells were effective against enemies with that particular weakness; Noble Shanks, in this case.

With Invective in grasp, I sprinted towards the Shanks as my shields began to falter, all three of their swivel turrets fixated upon me. I leapt high into the air above the Fallen machines and made a ritualistic hand gesture.

And I was gone.

More specifically, I appeared to disappear from existence right then and there, as clearly evidenced by the Shanks rotating their swivel turrets wildly in an effort to reacquire their target.

Blink is as useful as evasive abilities get, be it against the Darkness or against other Guardians in the Crucible. A skilled enough Warlock Voidwalker or Hunter Bladedancer can eventually be taught the ability, which allows one to open a rift in space and travel through it, effectively teleporting from point to point. Blink isn't a long range ability by any means, as long range teleportation would require tremendous amounts of skill and energy (that brings the Vex into question), but it confounded the average linear-minded machine or lowly organic.

Like right now.

I reappeared behind the trio of Noble Shanks and unloaded three shells of Invective into the floating machines in quick succession, silently priding myself as all three lost control of their flight mechanisms and promptly crashed to the ground, creating small, negligible explosions. Their shields were indeed formidable, but were paper if the right weapon was utilized.

'That leaves one left... The Captain.'

'Guardian! Watch out-'

Faster than I could react (which was pretty fast, for a synthetic), a small red blot on my radar made itself known...

Right behind me.

I turned around at a speed that would've given a human or Awoken whiplash, only to receive the sharp end of an energy blade. The charged blade shattered my Light shields, since my Light had not finished repairing the damage done by the Shanks, and carved a diagonal slash along my Warlock robes. I recoiled back a few steps - not in pain, mind you - but in genuine surprise that an enemy actually came close to hurting me. It was then I saw my abrupt attacker: a Stealth Vandal. I chided myself internally for missing an enemy. The Vandal waved one of its blades at me tauntingly, seemingly confident that it will triumph.

Challenge accepted. "Alright. Let's dance."

The Vandal, now visible, had no problem rapidly closing the short gap I had made, and immediately performed a high horizontal slash.

'Aiming for a decapitation. Leave it to the Fallen to forego dramatic entrances,' I mused.

I easily ducked under the slash and extended my palm outward, sending out a burst of energy that knocked the Vandal a few meters back. The Vandal, not out for the count just yet, quickly picked itself up from the ground and engaged its active camouflage.

'Cute. It thinks it's invisible.'

In reality, Stealth Vandals' invisibility was quite harrowing and made them difficult to track, as they were technically invisible from sight and the radar. However, if one were actively searching for a cloaked Vandal, the refracted light shimmering around the Vandal would give it away. That, and I saw it as it activated cloaking, so I just needed to follow its outline.

The Vandal slowly circled around me, tentatively awaiting a window of opportunity to attack. Taking my eyes off the Vandal's silhouette for a split second, I glanced at my shotgun in my left hand, then back to the Vandal.

I used three shells out of Invective's four-shell magazine. One in the chamber. Perfect for the job.

The Stealth Vandal decided to make its move, dashing forward and slashing its blade in a wide arc. I Blinked out of the way of the strike, reappearing to its left. The Vandal purportedly saw how I dealt with the Noble Shanks, and adjusted its focus, performing a powerful stab with its blade in my direction. I sidestepped the attack and sent another pulse of energy from my hand directly into its face.

The Vandal, surprisingly, held its ground, and only slid back slightly. Its tremendous will to kill me was admirable but not appreciated.

After this attack, the Vandal seemed to fly into a frenzy, launching a flurry of vicious swipes and stabs. After I dodged, blocked, and Blinked out the way of all its efforts, it reared back its Shock Blade and launched an overhead attack with all its strength, likely with the intention of vertically cleaving me in two.

I thought it was trying a bit too hard...

I met its brazen attack with the glowing yellow-orange essence of my left Sunbreaker, the nigh impenetrable exotic gauntlet unerringly absorbing the blow. My forearm and the Vandal's weapon locked, with me standing firm with a raised fist, and the Fallen creature trembling as it struggled with all its might and four arms to cut through the gauntlet. For a fleeting moment, it may have appeared to be an impasse, with both sides offering everything they had with tremendous stakes at hand.

...Except for my right hand, which held a semi-loaded shotgun.

I pulled Invective's trigger, the Solar round burrowing into my adversary's midsection. The Vandal released its grip on its blade and clutched the scorched hole in its stomach.

"Consider us even," I quipped as the Vandal fell, thereby joining the ranks of its fellow fallen Fallen.

I reloaded Invective and inspected my robes, of which my Light was already working on mending the superficial gashes the Vandal had made. My shields were back up and I had not sustained any real wounds in the skirmish. I was good to go.

'Now, about that Captain...'

'I marked the last enemy for you,' my Ghost said. An objective indicator became visible on my HUD. 'Just...no theatrics this time, alright? We have someplace to be.'

"Does that mean-" I began.

'Yes, that means not to allow enemies to engage in a swordfight with you,' my Ghost droned as if it were addressing a troublesome infant.

"Damn."

And so began the short journey to the Captain marked on my HUD, who, strangely, had not moved from where it was when I was "sniping." I summoned my Sparrow vehicle from nothingness and started to zip toward the objective. In the meantime, I decided to point out a flaw in my Ghost's logic.

"Technically," I piped up, "it wasn't a swordfight."

'Oh?' my Ghost asked.

"I was using gauntlets, a gun, and my abilities. The Vandal was using a Shock Blade and cloaking. In no shape or form was anybody using a sword."

My Ghost sighed heavily. How it did so without a mouth or lungs was beyond me. 'Eyes up, Guardian. We're here.'

Indeed we were. I took in the sight analytically.

The lone Fallen Captain stood erect, with a large menacing Shrapnel Launcher slung on its shoulder. The huge blade it used to eviscerate the wayward Dreg was sheathed on its back. The Captain's cape draped down passively due to the stillness of the thin air. There were no obstacles or arbitrary detritus littering the landscape like on the rest of the Moon. It was as if the Captain was choosing an ideal arena for us to fight in...

What's more, is that the Captain had its gaze focused on me even as I arrived and got off my Sparrow. The Fallen leader didn't appear concerned of my presence in the slightest, and still idly held its weapon.

'Looks like he was expecting you,' observed my Ghost.

"Creepy." I stepped forward and drew my shotgun, just a couple of meters away from the Captain. "Well, let's get this over with."

'Remember: quick and clean.'

'There goes a fair battle,' I thought. Regardless, I obliged.

During the time the Captain spent readying its weapon to fire, I propelled myself up into the air. I concentrated as I delved into my internal reservoir of Void Light.

And for a brief moment, I ascended, physically vulnerable but mentally and spiritually enlightened. Time began to slow to a halt in the physical realm, but I became more or less unaware of it altogether.

I dove deeper into my own essence.

In the furthest recesses of my mind, I saw the darkness. No, not the Darkness that facilitated the Collapse. It was the darkness, the Void, that the Traveler emerged from. If the Traveler was full of power, then so must be the Void, scholars of the Light reasoned. And they were correct in their assumptions. Voidwalkers are taught to be able to harness this dark energy for use in combat. Ignoramuses compare our powers to those of the abominable Wizards of the Hive, but Void Light is still Light.

I stared into the Void without fear. It was an endlessly stretching sea of blackness, reminiscent of the oceans of Earth in the pitch-dark of night. I steered my consciousness toward the sea, and scooped up a handful of the "water." My mind faltered momentarily from the immense influx of power, despite the seemingly minuscule amount of dark energy I had grasped in comparison to the infinite vast expanse, and I threatened to lose my mind and essence in the Void. My physical body's armor rooted me down, preventing such a thing from happening.

A Warlock's armor is not merely manufactured for protection; most of the plating on a Warlock's equipment serves as an anchor and energy sink. After all, something must anchor the Warlock's mind as it soars.

The literal loss of my mind averted, I exited the ethereal confines of my subconscious with small compacted destruction in hand. Time in the corporeal world resumed. I was still at the zenith of my jump and the Captain was still preparing to fire. I concentrated the energy in my right hand and coalesced it into a vaguely spherical shape. I felt a roaring surge of energy course through my being, the ball of Void Light becoming unstable and erratic in my hold.

So I threw it.

The sphere of dark energy, known colloquially as a Nova Bomb, lanced out from my arm and made a beeline toward the Captain, who futilely braced itself as it saw the rapidly incoming projectile. The Nova Bomb collided with the Captain head-on and exploded brilliantly with the force of a collapsing star, in a huge flash of purple Void Light. The enemy's shields and armor were formidable, but ultimately useless.

I activated Glide to slow my descent, landing on my feet gently and replaced Invective onto my back. I inspected the impact site, seeing no trace of the Fallen leader, a large crater being the only testament to where the Captain once stood proudly.

Well, as anticlimactic as it was, that was the end of that scouting party. All I needed to do was recover those Shock Cores from their corpses for the Future War Cult. I knew that Shock Cores are what the Fallen use to charge their energy weapons. What the FWC hoped to do with the apparatuses wasn't my business; I was only concerned with their acquisition and delivery.

To that end, I set out to scavenge from the enemies I killed.

My Ghost appeared in front of me. "No need. While you were off doing your thing, I took the liberty of gathering the Shock Cores."

I raised an eyeplate. "Why do that when I could've just gathered them myself?"

"Nothing is that simple. Knowing you, you'll get sidetracked by more enemies, or you'll start daydreaming again," the construct teased jovially.

I harrumphed. It was most certainly not daydreaming. "Just take us to orbit already."

My Ghost closed its eye. "Preparing the ship for transmat."

While my Ghost arranged for us to be teleported to my ship in orbit, complete and utter silence reigned dominant. I preferred this comfortable stagnancy, to be honest. As a rule, machines hate chaos.

I suppose machines like being asses even more, as the Ghost sensed my contentment and decided to break the silence.

"So... You took two minutes and thirteen seconds to deal with an entire scouting party? You're getting slow."

"Shut it... little light."

I tended to borrow that nickname from a certain Stranger whenever my Ghost annoyed me. About every five minutes, as it were.

"Sometimes I wonder why I repair you when you die, as opposed to leaving you as a floating mass of particles and Light," sighed the floating mass of machinery and Light.

After the touching moment illustrating our truly unbreakable friendship was finished, we disappeared from the face of Earth's moon, off to find out what destiny had in store for us.

The Tower

"The Tower is the only home many Guardians ever know.

To the people of the City, it stands as a promise we can endure. The merchants and citizens who fill its plazas and halls are as dedicated to the reclamation of our worlds as the Guardians who venture into the Darkness beyond."

The Tower Grimoire description

The Last City

Earth

Whish!

I blinked into existence a foot above the ground, landing on my feet safely. I undid the seals on my helmet and with a hiss, the airtight atmosphere surrounding my head rushed out to meet the morning winter air. My receptors picked up a sensation that did not affect me adversely, but was noteworthy nonetheless. I took in a breath, confirming it.

'Cold.'

Shrugging off the frigidness, I looked around and was met with the familiar surroundings of the Tower, the designated home of the Guardians. It had been more than a month since I last visited, and that was just to take in bounties and make sure I wasn't rusty in the Crucible. By reflex, I analyzed my surroundings. The nostalgia hit me like a tidal wave; it seemed there were always surprises at the Tower.

The ground and various edifices of the Tower were shrouded in a thick fleece of snow. The high altitude of the Tower supplemented the sub-zero temperature, and the cold ubiquitously filled the air. Precipitation drifted down from the sky in the form of snowflakes, which immediately dissipated once they met the white ground and Guardians.

The Guardians, in particular, were everywhere. I walked up the steps in front of where I spawned and looked to my right. I contorted my faceplates into an amused smile.

Over by the Cryptarchs' stand, a crowd of Guardians had formed. Titans, Hunters, and Warlocks of all races were eager to get the Engrams they had recovered in the field decrypted, and intermingled in front of the hopelessly outnumbered Cryptarch in a disorderly fashion. The Awoken Cryptarch in question, Master Rahool, worked frantically to get to everybody and their Engrams. Some Guardians stomped away angrily while muttering bloody curses toward their misfortune and the evil Cryptarch. I guessed that their promising new Legendary Engram turned out to be crap. I knew that feeling all too well...

I looked ahead of me. A flash mob of Guardians had assembled and were displaying their best dance moves in front of an unamused Gunsmith, who crossed his arms and (im)patiently waited for the Guardians to finish with their shenanigans. I was moderately ashamed to see a couple of Exos amongst the dance party. It's bad enough that Exos are some of the most staunch protectors of humanity and the City, much less machines created for war...

"Bounty claimed! Sensor Mites to be collected in the Russian Cosmodrome. Bounty accepted! Telthor, the Unborn, Sea of Storms, Moon..." An energetic synthesized-sounding voice piped up.

I turned my head to the Frame that was managing the bounties. Unlike the disaster that was the Cryptarch's stand, an orderly assortment of Guardians formed a straight line in front of the Bounty Tracker, waiting for their turn to cash in and take on bounties. The Frame manning the station worked with the precision and unfailingness that only a synthetic could manage, while retaining a somewhat ecstatic personality. Nearby, the Postmaster and Tess Everis worked diligently, each tending to one Guardian at a time.

The Tower was exactly how I remembered it, but was always different in its own right. There was no other place I would rather call home.

My Ghost popped up to my left, and spoke as if voicing my thoughts. "Welcome home, Exodus."

The mention of my name (my designation, technically) set off a few mental alarms. But I still appreciated the morsel of goodwill my Ghost exhibited.

That reminds me...

"Ghost, could you get me the Shock Cores we collected?"

"That I collected," my Ghost snidely corrected me before complying. Aaaaaaand, there goes the goodwill.

A bulky satchel materialized in front of me. I caught it before it could hit the ground, its somewhat hefty weight inconsequential, and began to stride toward the Postmaster's desk, which was a short walk away. As I was walking, I saw a human Titan shivering at an abrupt gust of arctic wind despite the literal ton of armor he was wearing, causing me to chuckle lightly to myself. A few hundred degrees colder and I might actually start feeling uncomfortable.

I stopped before the Postmaster's desk. I looked at the Frame running the office. Kadi 55-30 was its designation, I recalled.

"Kadi," I said, nodding at it.

"Guardian," the female-sounding voice matrix replied.

See, that's why I was so unused to hearing my name. The Tower's staff (with a few exceptions that were close to me) saw "Guardian" as a name fit for one. It was one of my few qualms with the Tower: little to no individuality. It wasn't so much a personal concern, as it was an idealistic concern. For example, it was akin to calling Kadi 55-30 by "her" race - Frame. It is an accurate label, but comes off as a bit patronizing.

Just because I'm a robotic war machine space magician doesn't mean I can't be indignant once in a while...

I hefted the bag of Shock Cores over the desk and rested it on there. Kadi looked at it with apparent interest, then focused its gaze back at me.

"A package? For whom?" it asked.

"Future War Cult. And as per Lakshmi's request, could you keep this quiet?"

I knew its answer. Frames are not truly sapient, like the Exos, but were rather virtual intelligences. They are perfectly capable of observing, reacting to, and recording stimuli, but do not possess the higher-level cognitive functions that organics and Exos have. Frames do their assigned jobs, and generally follow authority figures to a fault; Future War Cult had as much influence in the City as did Dead Orbit and New Monarchy, only surpassed by the Vanguards and the Speaker. And with much more pressing matters at hand, I doubted the Vanguards would be snooping into the FWC's operations at the moment.

"Of course, Guardian. I'll send it to the War Cult," it said as casually as a robot who was discussing giving questionable technology to a war cult could sound.

I nodded again and prepared to say my thanks. A familiar person made himself known at my side, however.

"Hey, Warlock," said Lord Shaxx in his distinct accent.

I turned to face the huge former Titan, the handler, overseer and announcer of the Crucible, and a hero of the battle at Twilight Gap. He was at least a foot taller than me, and much more burly, as Titans are wont to be. His polished silver armor blended well with the snowy background of the Tower, and his fists rested on his waist, making him look all the more intimidating with his trademark stance. He exuded an aura of authority and strength, one that often made other Guardians in the vicinity feel inferior, including myself. There were few people that I respected more than Shaxx.

It was respect borne of a slight fear, as well. I'd choose to wrestle a Hive Ogre over Shaxx any day.

"Lord Shaxx!" I said with pleasant surprise and confusion as I shook the man's hand. "What are you doing here? Don't you have to supervise the Crucible?"

Shaxx laughed heartily, quite different than the malevolent laughs he made during Crucible matches. "Nice to see you too, Warlock."

He knew my name; he just chose to call me Warlock as a nickname. That, and he refused to differentiate any Guardian from the rest. Equality under the Crucible, he would always say.

I scratched a nonexistent itch on the back of my head. "Sorry. It's just unusual to see you out here," I said apologetically.

"Well, to answer your question, Arcite's covering for me. And I could ask the same of you. After you did us proud, what with the Black Garden and the Vault and all, you just disappeared."

"I was away for a while. Warlock business," I lied.

"So it seems." I never took Shaxx as the kind to pry, and I was grateful. It was nice not having to explain myself, and the visions and flashbacks that plagued me. I wondered how my former Raid teammates were faring...

Shaxx folded his arms behind his back and looked at the Traveler, which floated lazily in dormancy above the Last City. I followed his gaze. The Traveler was a cipher, a mystery, yet Guardians utilized its power like second nature. If this kind of power fell into the clutches of the Darkness, I dread what might happen.

Shaxx and I stood there, still in front of the Postmaster's office. Kadi had long since stowed my package for the FWC out of sight, and silently watched me and Shaxx as we gazed at the Traveler. After a few seconds, Lord Shaxx turned his half-horned head to me.

"Warlock. If you haven't figured out the reason already, the Speaker sent me to come get you. Something urgent, concerning the Traveler. He knows that you have a penchant for getting sidetracked," he said humorously.

"That's what I said!"

"Shut up, Ghost," I replied.

Lord Shaxx chuckled at our exchange, then tilted his head in the direction of the Speaker's chambers. "Come on, let's go. We've wasted enough time here."

And so began the walk to the Speaker's chambers. I caught many a Guardians' eyes as they leered cautiously at us. Many inclined their heads for us in respect, acknowledging Shaxx's authority, and some recognizing me for my achievements. Nevertheless, most Guardians stopped what they were doing to clear a path for us, staring all the while. I doubted that they, like me, knew anything about what the Speaker wanted or what was going to happen. And they probably didn't care. A majority were most likely concerned about their patrols, or their missions, or their standing in the Crucible. I couldn't blame them, really. Not long ago, I did the same.

We descended the steps leading down toward the New Monarchy, Eva Levante, and the Speaker. I broke the comfortable silence out of curiosity. "So, do you know anything about what's going on, Shaxx?"

"Not at all," he said nonchalantly. He didn't seem broken up about the fact that he was being kept in the dark. "And I can't find a reason to care, either. My calling lies in the Crucible, training rookies like the one you used to be, and giving the "veterans" a reminder that they are Guardians, too. Nothing more, nothing less."

He didn't consider me a rookie anymore. That's a start, I suppose.

"What about your career as a Guardian?" I asked.

"What about it?" Lord Shaxx said neutrally as he turned to me.

We passed by New Monarchy. I shot Executor Hideo a dirty look, and he and his subordinates responded in kind. I kept walking.

Long story short, I didn't judge factions based on the equipment or goods they offered Guardians who sided with them; I judged them based on their ideals. FWC, for instance, (despite the many secrets they kept) was honest about its ideals. With the added bonus of exceptional armor, of course.

New Monarchy, however, was filled to the brim with veiled bureaucracy, despite their preachings of winning peoples' hearts. If monarchies didn't prove effective pre-Golden Age, then what made them likely to succeed in the modern age, when the Last City needs uncorrupted leadership the most?

I continued with my question directed at Shaxx. "I mean, does your occupation as the Crucible Handler affect your status as a Guardian?"

Lord Shaxx just looked at me incredulously, then burst out laughing. It sounded familiar... ("Ha! You're crushing them! Send them home crying!") In between guffaws, he spoke. "You know, Warlock, for how ancient and wise your Orders may portray themselves to be, you lot can be quite dense."

"What do you mean?" I asked in concealed irritation.

Shaxx stopped laughing, and his tone grew serious. "I am, and always shall remain a Guardian, until either the Light in the Traveler burns out, or my Ghost is consumed by the Darkness." He muttered, "Heavens forbid the former from happening."

We rounded the corner. He continued. "That aside, there's no reason the two jobs can't coincide. If the Darkness rears its ugly head at the walls of the City, then I'll be there to kick its arse back to the cesspool from whence it spawned. And it won't just be me. You think we Guardians kill each other in real combat with real bullets because we like to? Well, it's one of the reasons we compete in the Crucible, but the other is that it hard-forges us. We've all died many times in the Crucible, and I'm no exception, believe it or not. The Crucible teaches us the triviality of death, amongst other things. So when the Darkness comes knocking on our door, unlike those Dead Orbit pansies who'd pitch a tent on Pluto and live in it, you can expect a bunch of fearless Guardians to knock back twice as hard."

We had arrived at the stairs in front of the Speaker's chambers a minute ago; I stayed so I can hear Shaxx's speech to the end. I never heard the man talk much aside from his motivational (unless we're losing) comments when he announced during matches, and the sparse conversations we've had. Shaxx could be quite affable it seems, if you prove your worth.

I held out my hand and was met with the crushing grip of a Titan. I nearly winced. We still shook hands, despite the heavy pressure on my metallic appendages. Damn, this guy could bend steel if he wanted...

"It was good talking to you, Shaxx."

"Mm-hmm. T'was a pleasure, Exodus. Now go." He returned his fists to his waist, and nodded at me.

I smiled and began ascending the steps to the Speaker's chambers.

Tentatively, I walked into the room, as I didn't know what to expect. I untensed as I registered normal surroundings, for the most part.

The cramped room had a scholarly appearance to it, lined with bookshelves, writing equipment, a desk, and the like. The Speaker himself, shrouded in his white mask and robes as usual, paced back and forth restlessly. His Ghost silently watched from the corner. Both the Ghost and the Speaker's attention focused on me as I unceremoniously walked in and cleared my throat.

"Guardian! Clearly you made haste!" he said in an accent that sounded similar to Shaxx's, while trying to sound jovial. The distress in his voice was palpable, and contradicted the calm façade he always maintained.

"Speaker. What do you need from me? It's about the Traveler, right?" I asked with a slight tinge of concern.

"Correct." The Speaker stopped pacing back and forth, and leaned forward over his desk. "You know the story: the Traveler sacrificed itself to push back the Darkness during the Collapse, and suddenly became quiet..."

I nodded in affirmation.

The Speaker continued. "But ever since you defeated...whatever it was that lurked in the Black Garden, the Traveler began to heal, slowly but surely. I have been waiting here, as always, for its voice to return until I am no longer required to speak for it. Heh... And I'll finally become jobless," the Speaker said jokingly, before descending into a series of grievous hacks and coughs.

I was at his side in an instant. "Are you alright?" I asked.

The Speaker recovered, and waved me away. "It's... I'm fine," he said, though his voice told me otherwise. "I have not had a single moment of rest since the Traveler began healing."

He stood tall and spoke again. "That brings me to why I called for you. A few days ago, I began hearing...whispers, for lack of a better word. Broken sentences, too arbitrary to make any meaning of. But the voice was as familiar to me as that of my Ghost. It was of the Traveler!"

I almost gasped, but refrained from doing so out of a desire to maintain professionalism. My Ghost had no such reservations, however.

"Amazing!" it said as it appeared next to me. "But you're sure there's nothing that can be made out from the Traveler's whispers?"

"There is, little Ghost," the Speaker said. He began staring into nothingness. I had a feeling it was more than nothingness, however.

"At first I feared the whispers might even be death throes, but as the days passed, the messages became more coherent. I began deciphering certain words and small phrases."

"And? What did you find?"

The Speaker looked at me. "The Traveler was asking for you by name."

"What?!" my Ghost and I exclaimed in shocked unison.

"Yes. I was able to decipher the name 'Exodus-6' along with 'bring' and 'to protect' and 'darkness.' It couldn't be talking about anything else. When I asked if it was the specific Guardian that it was asking me to bring in order to protect us from the Darkness, it confirmed your name. There is no doubt."

My Ghost was about to ask something, but I beat it to the punch. "But...why me? Why does it want me, and not any other Guardian?"

He sounded uncertain when he said, "My only guess is that you survived the Vault of Glass and the Black Garden. Perhaps the Traveler sees your potential. Perhaps it requires an Exo, particularly a Warlock, for something that would break an organic mind."

The Speaker looked at his own Ghost, then to me. "It matters not. What matters is that the Traveler needs you. This may be our chance to push back the dark, for good."

A moment of silence passed as my Ghost and I absorbed the information.

"What does the Traveler want us to do?" my Ghost, being the dutiful servant of the Light that it was, asked.

"Board your ship, and bring it in front of the Traveler," the Speaker said as if reciting the lines from careful practice. "It is there that the Traveler will decide your next course and what to do, communicating through me, of course. I will contact you via Ghost."

I was about to inquire as to why the Traveler would want my ship within crashing distance, but decided against it. I would probably just get a bunch of cryptic answers from the Speaker, anyway.

"Let me just get my Fireteam," I said, turning to leave. If this turned out to be a Raid, I wasn't going alone.

"You are going alone," the Speaker said flatly. I idly wondered if he was some sort of psychic. After he saw the face I made, he added, "I know that you did not triumph through the Vault of Glass or the Black Garden alone, and I'm glad you didn't. However, the Traveler is beckoning for you and only you. Taking more Guardians than is needed would have an unknown impact on your mission."

"He's playing it safe. You should listen to him, you know," my Ghost said.

'Gee, thanks for taking my side...' I thought.

It was my Ghost's turn to ask the Speaker a question regarding our mission. "How long will this mission last?"

"As long as you are needed. We will call you back once your mission is completed, if all goes right. Keep in mind while you are preparing that you will be gone for an undefined amount of time. It could be a few hours, or days, weeks..."

By then I was already lost in thought, my mind mulling over the implications. An unknown mission at an undisclosed location, taking up an unknown amount of time? Presumably stars away from supply caches and fellow Guardians? There were so many essentials that I had to pack and bring with me! Ammo Syntheses, weapons like Invective and Icebreaker that can regenerate ammo, various suits of armor and elemental weapons to adapt to any situation, weapon parts and Hadronic Essences for equipment maintenance, Ascendant materials and Exotic Shards in case I find any good weapons or armor wherever I'm going, the list goes on...

I caught myself in the middle of my thoughts. I found myself elated to have a purpose again; a place where my skill set was needed. I felt like I did before trekking through the jungles of Venus and trudging through the wastelands of Mars - I was marching into the darkness without the slightest notion of what awaits me when I get there. I was excited.

My only regret was that I could not take a fireteam with me. I know that Slayne would have wanted to-

"-have fifteen minutes to prepare for-" I heard the Speaker say.

"Whoa, whoa! What was that?" I asked, panicked. It appears my musings got the better of me again, in the worst of times.

The Speaker didn't seem upset in the slightest, and took my diverted attention in stride. "The Traveler's voice is becoming urgent. There isn't much time left."

He stopped leaning over his desk and adjusted his mask, the same mask that Guardians make legends about. "I will give you fifteen minutes to prepare." The Speaker gestured toward the exit with his arm. "Bring whatever you may need to survive-"

But his advice fell on deaf ears. I was already sprinting back to the Tower Plaza to get the most out of the admittedly small amount of time I had been given.

"Good luck, Guardian! I have the utmost faith in you and your Ghost!" the Speaker shouted after me.

But let's be realistic! Who needs luck when you have superior firepower and space magic?

"Thorn? Patience And Time? Shadow Price?"

"Check. Check. Check."

"MIDA Multi-Tool? Red Death? Invective?"

"Check. Check. Check."

"SUROS Regime? Plan C? The Crash?"

"Check. Check. Check."

"Super Good Advice-"

"Uh, no."

I looked up from the storage terminal I was typing away at and stared at the Ghost behind me. "I missed one?"

"Well...no."

"Then?"

"I...just don't think it's a good idea to take that machine gun along with us. Wouldn't Thunderlord or Zombie Apocalypse be a better choice to take along? Or maybe even The Swarm?" my Ghost asked. Its thrumming voice sounded almost...pleading?

"I already transmatted The Swarm to the ship." I raised an accusatory eyeplate. "Is it because of Super Good Advice's ability to talk?"

My Ghost hesitated. I savored these moments. I was gonna give Ghost so much shit for this later...

"Not so much of its ability to talk, but..."

"You don't fancy the idea of having another wisecracking, patronizing talking robot taking your place with me?" I snickered.

"I just...you know what? Forget it."

I chuckled and pressed the button, transmatting Super Good Advice to the ship. If I was going to a quiet place, it sure as hell won't be quiet anymore, what with my two AI companions' bickering.

I meticulously went through the mental checklist I made earlier (Exos can't forget anything unwillingly, after all), and was content to see I had gotten everything I needed. Prior to transmatting most of my weapons and alternate armor pieces to my ship, I had a field day at the Gunsmith's, purchasing an exorbitant amount of Ammo Syntheses of all types. After that, I spent a good portion of the mountain of Glimmer I had been accumulating on weapon parts and engrams. My Sparrow and ship, having been serviced by the Shipwright, were ready for deployment.

All that in record time, too. My Ghost informed me I had two minutes to spare.

Before I could do anything else, I shivered abruptly, and not from the cold. I had a feeling of being watched...

I looked around warily, seeing nothing except for the normal morning rush of the Tower and the ever-present signs of winter. I sighed and brought a palm up to my foreplate, smirking a bit.

'Introverted bastard.'

Sensing no change in my environment, I said aloud with mock threat in my voice, "You can come out now. Unless you want me to do what I do to Stealth Vandals..."

That elicited a response. "You robots are no fun to sneak up on." The air behind me crackled, and refracted to reveal an Awoken Hunter. The Hunter's appearance was a bit thin (all Hunters had to be), with carefully trimmed black hair jutting from his scalp. Black war paint striped across his blue complexion. His cloak flowed lazily behind him, and his armor...

Oh, by the Traveler, his armor. If I had a nose, I would have wrinkled it in distaste.

'Lucky Raspberry...'

Momentarily, I disregarded my friend's strange fashion sense. I walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder, purposely putting a bit of strength into the gesture. His mask of seriousness never changed.

"Slayne, buddy..." I paused for effect. "What worries me is that you've tried sneaking up on robots. You wanna try that over at the Gunsmith's place? I'm sure Banshee's lost his trigger finger by now and definitely will not unload an entire clip of a machine gun in your face."

The corners of Slayne's mouth curved upward into a small smirk. "Don't give me ideas, Exodus."

I smiled. Slayne was a long time friend of mine, and we've been through thick, thin, and hordes of undying monsters together. Shortly after I was resurrected by my Ghost in the Cosmodrome and arrived at the Tower for the first time, I met an Awoken Hunter who had also just been revived at the same place in Old Russia. I didn't talk much, he didn't talk at all, and we both discovered we were more effective killing machines as a fireteam. Slayne has helped me through the Black Garden, the Vault of Glass, and the other various shitstorms that I started and found I couldn't finish alone.

...But for the umpteenth time, it occurred to me. What kind of name was Slayne? I mean, I wasn't too creative with my own, Exodus-6, but really.

Why not Slade? Slade sounded cooler, and more of an assassin's name.

I snapped out of my reverie. "Hey, why not-"

"No, I will not rename myself Slade, for the seventeenth time," he said irritably.

"Twenty-first," I corrected him helpfully. Perfect memory was a bitch.

Slayne facepalmed. Since we hadn't talked much since or before the Vault, he asked, "So, where were you exactly, before we invited you to raid the Vault of Glass? You vanished during the celebration commemorating the recovery of the Traveler."

I looked into oblivion as I remembered the event. "I was in the Hangar, preparing to leave."

He gestured for me to keep going.

"I ran into the Stranger. She gave me a Pulse Rifle that looks too advanced for this century," I said a tad lamely.

Slayne swooped down on the opportunity to harrow me. "So, that all you guys did?" he asked suggestively. "You robots don't-"

"Piss off, blue man."

He had a good laugh, and silence reigned between us. The noise of the Tower engulfed the air. From inside my head, my Ghost informed me I had less than a minute left.

To my surprise, the Hunter was the one to break the silence. I always ended up being the talkative one in the past... What was this world coming to?

"I got word that a person named Eris is paying a visit to the Tower. Something about the Hive, and the dark below..." There was something in his eyes as he said this, and it was what I felt when I was informed of my unknown mission: abstract excitement for the unknown.

I knew he was asking me to come along. He had a way of incorporating his questions into statements. Regrettably, I had a mission of my own.

"Sorry. I got a mission from the Speaker. Solo."

"So that's what has the Tower riled up now, and why you were emptying your storage space," he said in realization.

"Yeah."

"What exactly is this mission-" Slayne began to inquire.

'Wrap it up, Exodus! The Speaker wants you ready in space in ten seconds! Preparing you for transmat!'

'Crap.'

"I don't even have time to explain why I don't have time to explain," I quoted. I turned around and made to leave. "Sorry. I gotta go. Give my regards to Lakshmi, Cayde, and the others, would you?"

"Wait," he said. I turned around and faced Slayne. He twirled something around in his hand, and slapped the metallic object into my hands. I inspected the object, identifying it as his revolver, of the Tex Mechanica making.

"The Last Word?" I asked, baffled.

"I would say good luck, but you got The Last Word, so the point is moot." He smiled cheekily when I tried to object. "I got spare hand cannons, anyway."

Slayne didn't even know where I was going or when I would return, and he gave me his favorite revolver? I opened my mouth to say...

"Thanks-"

But when I looked up from the weapon, I was already in my ship, seated in the cramped cockpit. I looked back to The Last Word, and took a few moments to marvel at the masterful craftsmanship of the gun. Sighing, I concealed the gift in my Warlock robes, telling myself I would use it for future emergencies only.

Friendship truly knows no bounds.

Author's Note

If you're wondering about the huge amount of exposition and not enough of our little ponies, please bear with me. We'll be arriving in Equestria fairly soon...

The Traveler

"We called it the Traveler, and its arrival changed us forever.

Great cities were built, on Mars and Venus.

Mercury became a garden world.

Human lifespan tripled.

It was a time of miracles.

We stared out at the galaxy and we knew it was our destiny to walk in the light of other stars.

But the Traveler had an enemy. A Darkness, which had hunted it for eons across the black gulfs of space.

Centuries after our Golden Age began, this Darkness found us. And that was the end of everything.

...But it was also, a beginning."

The Speaker

In Orbit

Earth

The various mechanisms of my ship came to life with a metallic whir. Spectrum-colored lights from apparatuses and their switches illuminated the dim interior of the cockpit. I sat relaxedly on the reclined pilot seat, running ship diagnostics for anything that needed to be tended to or was malfunctioning. I smiled when I saw no abnormalities; that Holliday Shipwright knew her stuff.

My Ghost floated by my side, serving as an efficient, if somewhat grating, co-pilot. The Ghost emitted a blue beam onto the dashboard, most likely calibrating the ship for exiting orbit.

The Speaker hadn't given us the go yet. That was fine by me, as I needed to verify that I had everything necessary for expeditions lasting long periods of time.

"Ghost. How are we doing on supplies?" I asked.

"The weapons, armor, ammunition syntheses, and engrams you transmatted earlier arrived in a cinch, and are currently being stored in the miniature cargo hold. The ship has just barely enough space to hold them all. You really went all out with packing," the Ghost replied without looking up from the dashboard.

"Well, the Speaker said to take everything we need in order to survive the unknown," I stated matter-of-factly.

"Sometimes I wish you didn't take these things literally."

"Deal with it. Now, how's the ship holding up? I got no errors on my side."

"The fuel tank is full with backups on standby, the Warp Drive is powered, ship's kinetic barriers are online, avionics are functioning and ready, and our food and water supplies are completely stocked," the Ghost said.

I arched an eyeplate. Water was necessary as a lubricant, coolant, and as a vital component of synthetic blood, so the fluid was understandable to bring along. But food was unnecessary for maintaining either me or my Ghost's internal functions.

"Why food?"

"I know we don't really need a food supply. But if we don't know what, or who, we'll find, wouldn't it be best if we bring some sort of sustenance with us?"

My Ghost looked at me, blinked its eye once, and returned to its business. "Besides. You can have a bite to eat if you get bored or something."

"Meh."

I hated eating, and the damned Ghost knew it. Not only did I have to deal with byproduct excretions, but most of the rations allotted to Guardians tasted like glorified crap nonetheless. I don't know how organics do it.

Before I could internally complain further about the obsolete nature of eating, my Ghost's shell expanded outward in all directions leaving its eye in the center, indicating there was an incoming transmission. Immediately after, the Speaker's serene but distressed voice reverberated throughout the confines of the ship's cockpit.

"Guardian," the Speaker said with a tone of finality. "It is time. Present your ship before the Traveler, and let its Light guide you to where you are needed."

"Roger that. Breaking orbit now."

With a flick of a switch, I engaged my ship's outer camera feed, allowing me to see the ship's surroundings as it descended into the Earth's atmosphere. Hundreds of unmanned ships of all shapes and colors floated lazily in Earth's orbit, awaiting the return of their Guardian pilots. Many ships arrived to drop off their pilots at the Tower, while other ships zoomed off with their Guardians to confront the great unknown. Some Guardian ships even headed for the gray terrain of the Moon, likely with the foolish intent of reclaiming Earth's long-lost natural satellite.

I shook my head. The Moon was a lost cause. Unless the iron foothold the Hive had on the Moon was stinted somehow, there would be no pre-Golden Age glory to reclaim.

As we descended into Earth's stratosphere, I leaned forward into my seat and supported an elbow on my knee in anticipation. My ship's artificial gravity shifted slightly as it adjusted to the Earth's gravitational pull, preventing me or the contents of my ship from being flung around mid-flight. My Ghost simply floated there as we made the wild descent, its thoughts completely unknown to me.

The ship broke through the endlessly spanning cloud layer. Earth's breathtaking wintery landscape became visible in the broad daylight, and The Last City shined like the beacon of hope that it was. The Tower buzzed with activity, and Guardian and maintenance ships constantly darted around it, like Dregs around salvage.

Even more awe-inspiring, however, was the Traveler, which hovered a few miles above The Last City. As we got closer to it, my Ghost and I saw the sporadic cracks on the celestial sphere's surface. Some cracks looked like they ran deep. It was no wonder the Traveler was barely healing...

My ship reached the outskirts of the City, at an equal altitude to the Traveler. As we approached the massive sphere, the City's defense turrets became transfixed on us.

"Uh-oh," my Ghost said anxiously.

"Halt!" a stern female voice ordered through my Ghost. "You are in a strict no-fly zone, and are in violation of the rules laid down by the Consensus. Belay your course and identify yourself, or you will be fired upon!"

This was a familiar situation, reminiscent of the time I tried entering the Reef. The Awoken were much less friendly about it, though.

My Ghost and I shared a glance, and I said, "There must be some kind of misunderstanding. I am working under order of the Speaker."

She didn't buy it. "Last warning. Halt. Identify yourself."

'Damn, I think she's actually going to do it.' I thought.

Sighing, I slowed my ship's speed to a near crawl. "Exodus-6. Exo. Guardian. Warlock, primarily but not exclusively of the Sunsinger Order. Commissioned by the Speaker for an unknown mission concerning the Traveler."

Silence on the other end. I heard incoherent chatter between multiple people. They probably just received word of our mission.

The connection crackled like a radio, and the woman unapologetically relented. "Acknowledged, Guardian. You may proceed." She still didn't seem convinced. But I didn't have to prove anything.

"Thank you for your understanding," I said back with equal distrust.

The defense turrets rotated away from our position (one still had its aim fixated relatively close to us). I resumed the flight toward the Traveler.

We uneventfully arrived about a mile away from the giant sphere. I stopped my ship using the command terminal. "Ghost. Open a channel to the Speaker," I said.

Without any delay, my Ghost expanded its shell outward, opening a dialogue with the Speaker.

"Speaker. We're here. What happens now?" I asked warily.

No coherent reply. The signal was greatly distorted, and all my Ghost and all I heard was garbled white noise.

"This is strange..." my Ghost said, stating the obvious. It retracted its shell to close the dialogue, intending to retry the connection.

It was then that suddenly my ship's atmosphere was filled with...something. It wasn't a physical phenomenon, but it was as palpable as fumes in the air. Apparently my Ghost felt it too, as its shell rustled slightly and it blinked its eye multiple times. We both looked around the ship, but found nothing unusual.

I don't know if it was the thing in the air or my own sensibilities, but I realized just how close we were in proximity to the Traveler.

The one who reanimated me and all other Guardians, empowering us to do good. The one who made it possible for humans to birth the Exo race. The one who saved all righteous sapient races from the events of the Collapse and created the Ghosts. The one whom Warlocks study extensively, yet still know next to nothing about. Perhaps the aura that was present in the air was meant to impose unerring servitude to those in the Traveler's vicinity, but I still felt the need to bow, to kneel, to grovel, to do something...

My Ghost widened its eye as it looked at the external visual feed. "Exodus! Look!"

I managed to tear myself away from the servile urges that threatened to overtake me, and focused on the visual feed. To our pure shock, the Traveler became surrounded in a membrane of blinding light, nearly on par with the Sun. The light seemed to expand forth from the Traveler.

In fact, no, I was certain the light was stretching - toward us. Tendrils of light separated from the sphere and began to engulf my ship. The external feed became completely obscured by the brightest light one can fathom.

"What's happening-" my Ghost asked with a hint of panic before the ship lurched forward. The ship shook dangerously, and lights and klaxons blared their ominous warnings. Abruptly, I was sent from my comfortable pilot seat face-first into the ceiling with the loud sound of metal hitting metal. I held my cranium in pain, and I noticed that I was still in the air, floating.

"Artificial gravity has failed!" my Ghost said frantically.

"No shit!" I said from my position on the ship's roof. But what would Ghosts know? They don't even need gravity...

This whole situation was strange, though. Shouldn't Earth's natural gravity be rooting me down?

The ship's systems were in turmoil, and began to fail one-by-one. My Ghost worked to get them back online. I pushed myself from the ceiling and floated back to the pilot's seat. I sat down and buckled the seatbelt to compensate for the lack of gravity, and attempted to type away at the main console to gauge at what was happening. Red lights flashed everywhere on the console, effectively telling me I had minimal control over my ship. My Ghost had little luck as well, judging by its frustrated mumblings.

"Central control systems and life support are offline!"

'We don't even have air?' I thought bitterly. I materialized my helmet and put it on.

The ship's creaks and metallic protests grew louder as if something huge was applying pressure to it, and many of the ship's lights shut down altogether. I worked hard to get the auxiliary power online, and accidentally flicked the switch for the ship's external feed. Imagine my amazement when the screen actually booted up and showed what was happening on the outside world.

The ship seemed to be in a state of interstellar transit, zooming across entire star systems in mere instants. It was essentially the same as using a Warp Drive to get from place to place.

What unnerved me was that neither my ship's primary motor systems nor the Warp Drive were functional.

"Impossible..." my Ghost said in disbelief.

I just nodded dumbly.

The trembling of the ship intensified as the journey reached its climax. Trinkets, engrams, and other non-essential and innocuous objects floated about aimlessly. I hate to imagine what was happening in the cargo hold with the weapons; it was a good thing they weren't loaded. For a fleeting moment, I thought the ship would split in two under the strain.

And then it stopped. All the floating items dropped onto the floor unceremoniously, and I felt gravity's familiar pull again. My Ghost eyed the ship's systems and ran diagnostics. As quickly as they failed, all of the systems came to life, and alarms resumed their blaring, only to turn off when they sensed zero anomalies with the ship's status.

"Gravity is good, life support is up, and we have control again," my Ghost said, relieved. "But where did...we...go..." Its voice trailed off once its eye caught sight of the external feed.

I saw it too and tilted my head, because I was just as flabbergasted as Little Light next to me.

"Earth?"

Equestria

Ponyville

Meanwhile, in a certain tree library, chaos stirred. Chaos in the form of books strewn every which way around the library while an alicorn and a diminutive dragon added to the mess. Never would the well-read owner of such a fount of written knowledge allow any slight mistreatment of books, but this was no ordinary occasion.

"Spike! Find anything on 'The Darkness' yet?" Twilight Sparkle asked from across the room.

The little dragon turned around slowly to avoid falling from the treacherously high ladder. "Uh..." Spike checked a few more books for anything specifically on darkness, then dejectedly put them back on the shelf. "Nope, nothing up here, Twilight."

"Keep looking." Twilight used her wings to reach the highest shelf. Flapping her wings to stay hovered in place, she scanned the shelf's contents.

The Dark Ages of Equestria

The Dark Night

Dark and Mystical Creatures; An Encylopedia

Dark Places and How To Deal With Them

The Dark Below

Twilight groaned. "How is it that neither this library nor the Canterlot Royal Archives has this one specific book?" she asked rhetorically in frustration and sat on her haunches.

"Princess Celestia must have a strange taste in books if they're this rare," Spike half-muttered. "Any idea why she wants this one in particular?"

"None. But it's not my place to ponder it. The Princess has asked me to look into it, and I won't let her down!" Twilight said, putting a hoof on her chest.

"She also said not to worry about it if we can't find it," Spike pointed out. "We've been looking for it for most of the morning, Twilight."

That was certainly true, Twilight conceded. Before the Sun was even raised, Celestia sent correspondence to her pupil telling her to be on the lookout for any books or clues about 'The Darkness.' She also said that Twilight should not stress if she couldn't find anything, but Twilight didn't know what the Princess meant by that.

Since when did she ever stress over something the Princess said?

Anyway, the abrupt letter had roused Spike from his sleep (since he was the hapless messenger who could receive letters through belching), and he graciously sacrificed the remainder of his sleep in order to help Twilight find the book. The lack of sleep was evident in his posture as he sluggishly searched a high shelf for subjects about Darkness.

'He certainly deserves a break after all this work...' Twilight thought.

"Spike, you can go ahead and take a break for now. We can resume searching some other time," Twilight called up to Spike, who was still on top of the ladder.

Spike had no complaints as he descended the ladder and yawned tiredly. "Okay, Twilight, if you're sure."

"I'm sure." Twilight said. She looked around the library and at all the displaced books. She levitated a couple of books with her magic and started to replace them onto their rightful shelves. As she did this, she brainstormed how or where she might find the book Celestia was asking for.

The dragon trudged over to his bed, murmuring, "I'm too young to feel this old..."

'Old...' Twilight paused in thought.

"Old!" She put down the books that she was carrying with magic, and began talking excitedly. "That's it! Since the book is not in the Canterlot Archive or here, then it must be an obscenely old book! I know where we can find it! Spike, you're a genius-"

When Twilight turned around to praise Spike, she saw that he was fast asleep on the floor a few hooves away from his bed. He was curled up and sucking his thumb, occasionally interrupting to mutter the name of a certain unicorn fashionista. Twilight laughed softly and scooped the baby dragon up in her forelegs, and gently flew over to his colt-sized bed. She laid Spike down delicately and tucked him in using her magic, taking note of his serenity while sleeping.

"Rest easy, my number-one helper," she spoke quietly to his sleeping form.

Twilight turned around and trotted to the door, being sure to sidestep the paper-based obstacles scattered about. The unicorn grabbed her saddlebag filled with parchment, quills, and such - a must-have for taking notes when foraging for a specific book - and sidled out the exit. She looked at the Sun's position in the sky, which indicated the day was still young.

Time to pay a visit to the former Castle of the Royal Sisters.

Author's Note

The reception to this story really isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Going to be honest though, I kinda feel like I'm doing something wrong (judging by the relative emptiness of the comments section).

Please. If you have suggestions for any way I can improve as a writer, or some concerns on the story, or even just your opinion, don't hesitate to drop a comment or review.

Thanks for reading.

In Orbit: Equis

"The fiercest contest lies ahead. This is irrefutable."

Hood of No Tomorrow description

In Orbit

Unknown Planet

"Earth?"

It was as it appeared. We were in orbit above a planet that could be none other than Earth. The blue marble-like sphere had all the aspects characteristic of my home planet: seas encompassing a large percentage of the surface, green masses representing land, and the white tufts of clouds that swirled above the surface. The planet positively glowed, contrasting the dark surroundings of space, and Earth's atmosphere gave the planet an almost surreal hue. There was something off about it, though...

But as much as I was fond of the appearance of humanity's crown jewel, for the most part I was confused and frustrated. Did that mean we failed the Traveler's mission? What did we do wrong? Why did we simply end up back at Earth, rather than the place the Darkness was threatening?

I was jolted out of my thoughts by a certain metallic voice.

"No, no, no, no, no, no! This is bad! This is very bad!" my Ghost said in clear distress. It darted around the cramped ship, demonstrating a Ghost's rendition of panicking.

I tore my view away from Earth and swiveled around to face the Ghost. "Calm down! What's happened?" I asked, raising my hands in a placating gesture.

The Ghost stopped and hovered in place. Its extremities expanded outward as it said, "There's no reason to be calm! We're cut off from the Light!"

I flinched at the news. That was very bad. Still, I had to keep my cool; there was no one else to fall back on if we lose sight of the mission. If I couldn't complete the mission, who could?

"Are you sure? Completely cut off?"

"See for yourself!"

Instantly, I knew what the Ghost meant. It wanted me to personally access the fount of Void Light.

It wasn't anything new. Warlocks and Titans often make contact with the Void to power their abilities. No physicality involved. After all, Light is a force beyond matter, and Guardians are living intermediaries between the two. We are embodiments and liaisons of the Light all at once. It is only natural we possess visceral means of interacting with it.

I obliged. I got up from the pilot's seat and walked over to an area that was the least cluttered from the earlier chaos. I kicked aside some non-essential belongings of mine and cleared a small spot to sit on. I slowly reared myself to a sitting position on the floor, putting my arms on my knees while learning forward slightly.

Not exactly the paragon of a meditative state, I know, but Exos aren't very picky with how they sit down. Actually, now that I think about it, the same goes for pretty much any Guardian who can actually find the time to rest.

But enough of that. As long as I was away from the ship's controls as I worked, we should be safe.

In order to test my connection to the Traveler, I had to use one of my abilities that uses Light. However, I couldn't try anything that deals damage, as Warlocks' abilities are extremely volatile, and I didn't want to put the only current barrier between me and the vacuum of space in any danger. Grenades, energy pulses, and Glide or Blink (due to lack of space) were out of the question.

Shrugging, I settled for the same process I use for charging up a Nova Bomb. No damage would be caused to my surroundings, as I would only enter my subconscious to gauge at my connection with the Light, not to utilize it.

I concentrated and, like I did on the Moon against the Fallen Captain, I ascended. I broke the chains of mere corporeal existence and, in the quintessence of my being, sought out the Light that me and my fellow Guardians bound our souls to. In a few short moments, I located the fount from which my powers were obtained - the Void. Endless and unlimited power, free for Voidwalkers and Defenders to use at their leisure.

Except, this time, it wasn't.

Before, when describing the Void, I drew parallels to an infinite expanse of ebony-black ocean. But now, it was, well, let's just call it a pool. No, not a lake, not even a pond, but a pool. Entirely fathomable. Quantitative. The Light a Guardian draws from is not supposed to be limited. I quickly realized that the "pool" was not the Void, but was an ethereal representation of my own reserves of Light. The true Void that the Traveler enables us to connect with, the infinite body of dark ocean, was nowhere to be found. And there could only be one sensical explanation.

The distance between me and the Traveler was so great that even I couldn't even access the Void.

If this was true, then the implications were frightening. The more time I spent away from the Traveler, the more my Light would diminish over time, the weaker I would gradually get. My Ghost is in the same boat, and that train of thought was probably what sent it into a panic.

Such a reaction was warranted. It wasn't just our abilities and my fighting capabilities that would suffer from the severed connection to the Traveler. My own internal systems that keep me running? That keep me alive? They are powered by my Light reserves. I'm running on mere battery power for as long as I'm here.

I exited my subconscious, nonplussed by my findings. As a Guardian, I had a few tangles with death, but being dead and staying dead? It gave me a feeling I seldom experienced. Was it fear?

Or...resignation?

A few moments passed. I inclined my head down, putting my head to level with my knees as I sat. For a while, I just listened to the soft whir of the ship and the quiet beeps of apparatuses.

"You're right..." I said quietly. I stood up despondently and trudged over to the pilot's seat. I collapsed onto the seat, similar to how a human would after a long day of work. I took a side glance at my Ghost.

It was unresponsive, and it just hovered in the middle of the cockpit catatonically. Maybe it was undergoing a revelation of its...our mortality. Perhaps it was mulling over the consequences of two synthetics isolated from the very entity that enables them to live. I would have smirked at its stupor if it weren't for these dire circumstances, and the fact that it threatened our lives.

All this begged the question: if we weren't on Earth, then...

I issued a single mental command, forcibly deleting my concerned thoughts of entropy and death (temporarily, of course, as I resolved to dwell on the topic some other time) from my mind. I looked over the faux-Earth again.

And that's when it hit me.

Guardian ships were completely absent from the planet's orbit, was the first thing I noticed. Second, the continents were slightly out of place, and did not sport the damage the Earth retained during the events of the Collapse. The planet, as a whole, looked much brighter and healthier than the Earth I was from. How any of this was possible, I could only guess.

Was this the Earth before the Collapse? Did we just travel through time?

I enunciated my thoughts to my Ghost. It hovered over to me at shoulder-length, looked at the planet, then turned away. It scoffed at the notion. "Preposterous. The Traveler can't go through time," it said, though it sounded slightly doubtful.

"Or can it?" I countered. If the Vex could do it, who's to say the Traveler can't?

The Ghost was silent once again. None of us spoke as we absorbed the situation.

"Well? What do we do now?" Ghost timidly asked, breaking the silence.

There was only one thing left to do, really.

"We go down," I said as I reached for the ship controls and set a course for this strange new Earth.

My ship steadily descended into the planet's atmosphere without any trouble. Everything, for the most part, appeared normal. As we got closer to the surface, we could distinguish the marks of civilization. I couldn't tell how advanced just yet, but I saw structures characteristic of cities (in one unusual case, on a cliff), and sparse smaller structures reminiscent of towns or villages.

"Sapient life..." I said aloud in wonderment. "Should we touch down and make contact?"

"I don't think so. Not yet," my Ghost replied decisively.

I shot it an inquisitive look.

It looked at me. "We don't know where, or when," it muttered the last part out, "we are. We don't even know if the natives here are human, much less friendly! Who knows, we could be on the home planet of the Fallen! Or the Cabal Empire! Maybe even the creators of the Vex!" it said, the Ghost's shell expanding more and more with each illogical theory.

I shook my head, and thought. All of those hypotheses were highly unlikely, and my Ghost was just being irrational. Any planet inhabited by any of those would be war-torn, industrialized, or mechanized, respectively. But as inane as its suppositions were, it had a point. We had nothing to work with, no intel about this place. I couldn't risk a war with yet another species, especially since I'm alone, without even a Fireteam. Who was I, Kabr the Legionless? Taking on endless hordes of enemies by myself?

Not to mention the Traveler sent us here for a reason. Why send a Guardian someplace completely safe? Where was the tactical advantage in that?

Perhaps it was for the best if we played it safe, I grudgingly concluded.

"You know, I think you might be onto something," I said.

"You're listening? To me?" my Ghost asked in astonishment.

"Yep."

"It's about time you let me claim leadership!" it said triumphantly.

"Until you need to hack a door..." I muttered. It didn't seem to hear. I decided to let it savor the moment for once.

I checked the visual feed. We were getting closer to the surface, barely above the clouds. Not quite close enough to be seen by any creatures with eyesight similar to humans, for that matter. The ground below us seemed to be a large forest adjacent to a small town. Seemed as good a place to start as any. I could use the forest's cover to stay hidden and learn more about what we were dealing with.

"Ghost. Activate transmat on my mark."

"Got it."

In a few moments, we would be transmatted to the ground, and my ship would return to orbit pilotless. Once we were on the forest ground, some scouting would be in order.

I checked my current apparel, then I reviewed the armor I had stashed in the cargo hold. Sunbreakers seemed like the safest bet. Get the most out of any Solar grenades I use. I didn't want to use too much of my Light, since it was in limited supply, so I would try to rely more on my guns for the time being. Voidfang Vestments, Heart of the Praxic Fire, and Apotheosis Veil seemed somewhat costly, energy-wise, so I decided not to use them until I got around the Light shortage problem.

Now, my weapons. Just in case we run into...complications. I opted for a well-rounded loadout.

"Ghost, store Patience and Time and Steel Oracle Z-11 in inventory. Transfer me Shadow Price, The Crash, and Super Good Advice."

At the mention of Super Good Advice, a robotic clicking sound resonated from my Ghost. I bet if my Ghost could, it would've blanched. I thought it was going to protest. To my genuine surprise, it complied without a word.

Instantly, an auto rifle materialized snugly into my hands. I tested its weight, and was pleased with the familiarity and ease of handling.

Shadow Price.

A precision auto rifle left behind by Toland, the Shattered. It asks so little, and offers so much.

Without any delay, a deep bluish shotgun engraved with the sigil of the FWC dropped out of thin air in front of me. I caught it with one hand, checked to make sure it was loaded, then holstered it sideways on my lower back.

The Crash.

A close quarters weapon named and sanctified by the leaders of the Future War Cult.

And finally, with a massive weight that would have made any less experienced Guardian fall over, a huge red machine gun with red stripes latched onto my back. If measured vertically alongside an average Guardian, the gun would probably be nearly as tall.

Super Good Advice.

This weapon is full of it.

No less than a second later, the gun greeted me amicably, recognizing me as its rightful wielder.

"Exodus. Good day. You require my services?" Super Good Advice asked from its position on my back.

"If something goes wrong," I replied to it casually. I've had the weapon for so long that I didn't feel like I was talking to an inanimate object anymore. It was a person, albeit one that is immobile and completely dependent on a gunman.

I continued. "We got a reconnaissance mission here. I may need firepower, should the situation get sticky. In the meantime, try to stay quiet while we're on the ground so I can maintain relative stealth."

There was a pause as the gun's artificial intelligence processed the briefing. "Understood," it agreed.

"I'm glad you're okay with-" I said before I was politely interrupted.

"But normally you're not this wary. Why, anyone who wields me has a tendency to go in guns blazing! This isn't any normal scouting mission, is it?" Advice said observantly after a small pause.

I thought about whether I should answer it for a second, then shrugged. No harm in telling a machine gun what we're up against, right?

"Yeah. Completely unknown territory. Unconfirmed hostiles."

"Bah," the heavy machine gun said dismissively. "They will still fall when shot, like any other enemy. I'll be ready if you need me."

"Good," I replied. I knew accepting that bounty a while back was a good idea. It gave me a reliable weapon, that doubled as a companion other than my Ghost. Plus, my Ghost and Super Good Advice hated each other and constantly argued, which provided more entertainment for me when I was out on long, tedious patrols.

I saw that we were nearing the ground, almost to the point of skimming the treetops of the forest. I signaled to my Ghost to activate transmat.

"Take us to the ground, Ghost."

"Okay. Going down in three..."

Super Good Advice apparently just noticed its fellow AI construct and greeted it in the most obnoxious manner fathomable.

"Oh, HI LITTLE LIGHT!" Advice screeched in a faux cheerful, high-pitched voice, at a volume that would have deafened any human ears. The eloquence and overall decency that it normally had when conversing with me all but vanished at the sight of my Ghost.

I rolled my eyelights. Here we go again...

Ghost sighed miserably. "Why haven't you dismantled this thing yet?"

Before I could answer that I was actually going to consider it, Super Good Advice feigned (or didn't) a malevolent diatribe, complete with an evil cackle. "Mwahahaha! You fool! You or Exodus cannot simply get rid of me! I am your doom! Your salvation! I am... YOUR DESTIN-"

Thank the Traveler that my Ghost used that exact opportune moment to transmat all of us to the ground. The world flashed white, and my vision was subsequently assaulted by lush forest green.

Author's Note

Sorry about the lengthy delay for this chapter. Destiny (the game, I mean) has been very efficient in detracting from the time I have for writing this story. But assuming all goes well, the next chapter should be up relatively quickly. (Don't hold me to that though :twilightsheepish: )

Also, I feel I should mention something else that may affect this story's future. I am aware that the game Destiny is a work-in-progress. And, regardless of what you may think of it, Bungie is releasing DLC that is supposed to add upon the sad state of the game's story, and reinforce the lore. This is great and all, but be aware that if Bungie releases something that directly contradicts my story or the explanations that I am setting up for things the game does not yet explain, I will make changes, perhaps to the extent of taking chapters down and rewriting them to fit in with the new canon. I often don't like contradicting canon (with the exception of MLP because, let's face it, crossovers are MEANT to compromise canon Equestria).

So...yeah. I'm just hoping Bungie doesn't make my story obsolete.

Thanks for reading.

The Foreboding Forest

"When one can wield the fire of stars, what use is flesh and bone?"

Sunbreakers description

The Foreboding Forest

Everfree Forest, Equis

Level ?? Story Normal

Scout the forest and identify any signs of hostile life or minions of the Darkness.

Fireteam: 1 Player

Solo

Modifiers:

Mortal: No respawning

Heroic: Enemies appear in greater numbers and are more aggressive

Angry: Enemies will not flinch, even after taking massive damage

Embargo: Expect little to no ammo drops

Rewards:

Unknown Rewards

Respawning Restricted

Whish!

I landed on my feet with a small thump, muffled by forest undergrowth. Instinctually, I raised my primary weapon, which happened to be Toland's former weapon Shadow Price, and looked around in all directions, scanning the greenery around me for any foreign life-forms. Seeing no movement or any red spots in my radar, I lowered my rifle slightly, still not letting my guard down. I took a moment to analyze my surroundings more thoroughly.

Predictably, the forest was densely packed with trees and other plant life, to the point of me not being able to take more than few steps without walking smack-dab into a tree. The plant life itself, to my relief, closely resembled the flora of Earth's, and made me feel slightly less away from home, rather than some completely alien planet. I heard the nearby chittering of insects and the occasional bird whistle, the nature reminding me of my patrols in Old Russia. A natural setting, completely claimed by the wilderness.

Minus the Fallen and Hive, of course.

'So this is what it's like, being in a forest...' I thought as I looked upward.

The midday sunlight sparsely leaked through the small gaps in the treetops, giving me just enough light to see without the assistance of my Ghost or the adjustment of my own optical receptors. Though I was fully armored, the stagnant humidity in the air was palpable. Colorless particles floated about in the damp air, dotting the atmosphere for as far as the eye could see. As I held Shadow Price in my line of sight, I noticed dewy droplets of condensation forming on the weapon and on my gloves. A slight sizzling sound emanated from my Sunbreakers, most likely the result of stray water droplets evaporating on the gauntlets' glowing surface.

The planet, at least in this particular forest, seemed quite similar to Earth. But to what extent precisely were they similar? I had yet to encounter any animal life, much less other sapients. Perhaps the air would reveal something, I mused as I beheld the thick air of the environment.

"Ghost, run a scan of the atmospheric composition."

'Can do,' Ghost said from within my head.

I shifted my weapon to my right hand. I held out my other hand. My Ghost appeared in the air above my palm, as it had gone into its pocket dimension during transmat to the ground. It hovered above my palm and rotated its shell as it sent greenish waves of light and faint buzzing noises reverberating through the forest's stagnant air. After a few moments, the Ghost, seemingly satisfied, disappeared into nothingness once again.

'Scan complete.'

"And? What'd you find out?"

'The troposphere is nearly identical to that of Earth's, notwithstanding a few negligible gases below one percent,' the Ghost's voice echoed in my mind.

I didn't know what to think about that. So...were we on the same Earth or not?

"Is the air safe, then?" I asked instead, still keeping an eye out for any kind of movement in the forest.

The Ghost would have rolled its one eye if it were visible, I imagined. "Yes, but it's not like you need to worry about breathing. At any rate, the air isn't corrosive, so you could likely survive without your helmet. Still wouldn't recommend it, though."

"Roger that. Anything else?"

My Ghost shuddered. It hesitated as it began its report.

"I've got good news, and I got very bad news."

I would have facepalmed if I wasn't currently on alert holding a weapon. This mission so far has been nothing but very bad news and kicks in the groin. Metaphorically speaking.

"Good news?" I asked, hopeful.

"Whatever this place is, the authority groups here clearly don't anticipate Guardians, since there don't seem to be any countermeasures set up against ships or transmat networks. You should have constant access to your Sparrow, and your ship in orbit."

Well, I doubted I would have any use for my Sparrow in the claustrophobic space of a forest, but being able to teleport to my ship without calling it down would be boon to keeping a low profile.

Right, and the kicker.

"What's the very bad news?" I asked.

'Uh, well, to cut to the chase... I won't be able to revive you if you die.'

'What?!' I almost blurted aloud.

My Ghost appeared in front of me. It solemnly spoke. "We should have predicted this. Without the Traveler, we would eventually cease functioning on our own, even if we restricted use on your powers."

It struggled to find the words to continue. "Back at... our Earth and the other planets, you would die in battle and I would take a few seconds to gather enough Light from the Traveler to revive you. Now... Especially without any assistance from the Traveler or other Guardians' Ghosts, I just don't think I'll be able to scrounge up enough Light to bring you back to life if you fall."

It looked down. "I'm sorry. I should have seen this coming before we landed here."

I thought long and hard about our circumstances. Here we were on some completely unknown rock that looked similar to Earth, completely isolated from any human or Awoken civilization and the very entity that enabled us to live. We had no idea what we were up against, and to top it off, my Ghost and I were rendered functionally mortal.

The odds were incredibly against our favor. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought we had nothing going for us.

...But I knew what we did have.

I had my Ghost, a Sparrow, a ship. I had weapons, armor, experience. I had my Light, and last but not least, a purpose. A singular purpose, sworn by all resurrected Guardians serving under the Light: to defend the Traveler and, by extension, the myriad life it allied itself with.

The Traveler sent me here for a reason, I realized. It was no fluke, no mistake. It was perfectly intentional, and it's my duty as a Guardian to find out why.

And I was going to do my job by the book, damn it. Mortal or otherwise.

"...Well, thanks for telling me this." I looked up and said sincerely, with newly enkindled resolve in my eye lights. "But it doesn't matter. We won't get anything done by standing here and moping."

I realized what I had said. 'I sound like a Titan now...'

A sense of surprise radiated from my Ghost. Obviously, it had expected the bad news to intimidate or demoralize me, rather than motivating me to complete the mission. It wasn't going to ignore the opportunity to get off the macabre topic, though. I could tell it was just as disturbed as I was.

"Let's not waste any more time, then!" it said without questioning my newfound enthusiasm.

"Lead the way," Ghost said, floating out of my way to reveal more unexplored forest ground. I nodded. Once again, I brandished my rifle, checked my other weapons, and resumed our trek into the unknown depths of the mysterious forest. As I marched forward, my Ghost piped up suddenly.

"But look on the bright side! You'll be more careful from now on, and I can finally take a vacation!" Ghost joked, dispelling some of the lingering tension.

"...I'll still need you to unlock doors," I said, smirking.

"That's the spirit!"

A few minutes later...

Equestria

Everfree Forest

Twilight Sparkle briskly trotted along the pathway leveled out between the countless trees of the Everfree forest. The dirt path was still perfectly illuminated by the daylight, and the forest seemed calm as ever. Considering what has happened in past experiences with her friends in the forest, the Everfree was surprisingly idyllic.

Humming the tune of Winter Wrap-Up gently to herself, she absently reflected on the past days' events. Fluttershy performing an ensemble with the Pony Tones, the Cutie Mark Crusaders visiting the library for another session of 'Twilight Time'...

Twilight smiled when she thought of her friends and the Cutie Mark Crusaders. It felt so long since she first came to Ponyville. She realized that everything before she came to Ponyville, barring her time with the Princess, seemed like distant memories. Nothing could ever trump being with her friends. Not even reading. Reading alongside her friends was even better, she thought with a fond smile, recalling the times she read Daring Do with Rainbow Dash.

The purple alicorn stepped cautiously over a patch of flowers, her violet eyes preemptively catching sight of the Poison Joke. More memories of her with her friends came flooding back, though they were not necessarily fond memories.

"Never again," she muttered, referring to the dark-humored twisting of Twilight and her friends' special talents.

As Twilight kept on the path, the flowery blue menace averted, it occurred to her that she had planned to meet Fluttershy and the others for the annual Breezy migration in a few days. Twilight had yet to effectively schedule for that day, and for the days after that... It gave her all the more reason to find this book for Princess Celestia quickly.

Twilight's brow furrowed, and she slightly pouted as she thought. Why does the Princess have such a pressing need for one book in particular? One about 'The Darkness'? And what could this book possibly be about? Sounded like a mystery or a romance/adventure novel...

She conjured the mental image of her mentor reading dramatic books with a flashlight under silk bedsheets. Twilight giggled at the thought. Rulers needed entertainment too every now then, didn't they? Late night escapades, as they were.

Twilight was wrenched from her thoughts by the howl of Timberwolves in the distance, sounding from deeper into the forest, perpendicular to the direction of the castle she was headed to. She faced the direction of the wooden creatures' howling, feeling apprehensive but not fearful. Twilight had learned from a certain friend that the forest creatures only raised a ruckus when they were feeling disturbed, or were hunting. Since ponies, especially alicorns, were not a normal component of Timberwolves' or other creatures' diets, forest creatures tended to avoid her, so she had nothing to fear.

Still, it was unusual... Weren't Timberwolves nocturnal hunters? What could possibly have them riled up in the middle of the day?

Twilight tried her best to ignore the wolves' howls, which continued to persist and grow in intensity. She continued to trot on the dirt path, and estimated that she was only one or two minutes away from the castle.

Then she heard the sound.

It was constant chattering, pounding, unlike anything pony-made, natural, or magical that she had heard before. The closest she could equate it to were firecrackers, like the ones ponies used to celebrate the complete revolution of Equis around the Sun. However, Twilight had a sinking feeling that the sound was not from anything used for celebration. The constant, seemingly never-ending ratatatatatata! was, to her sensitive equine ears, perverse and unnatural, more so than even the Everfree Forest's twisted laws of nature. It was giving her a headache just from listening to it, and the alienness of the sound filled her with an unplaceable sense of dread.

At that exact moment, Twilight could have done a number of things. Run in a direction opposite to the terrible sound. Ignore it and be on her merry way. Go back to Ponyville and report the occurrence, like any sane pony would do.

And yet, against all rational thought, Twilight strayed from the dirt path leading to the former castle of the princesses, and started galloping as fast as she could manage toward the sound. She didn't know if it was a matter of curiosity, or of a sense of duty to protect Equestrian interests and her friends from the unknown, or both.

But mainly, the feeling was inexplicable. Like it was destiny. Twilight had certainly had her share of time travel to know that destiny was not to be, or was able to be, trifled with.

Twilight wasn't an unreasonable mare, by any means. She often liked to have firsthand observations of phenomena before she accepted them as fact. However, there were many things in the world that she was forced to accept, despite being totally nonsensical and having no scientific rationale whatsoever - Pinkie's sixth sense, for example. This, to her, was one of those instances.

And with that, Twilight's decision was made resolute. Her face steeled as she ran. This was an act of fate. If she didn't confront the source of the sound now, it soon would confront her and her friends anyway, if destiny was as inexorable as it was foretold. And risking her friends was out of the question.

The light in the forest suddenly dimmed, as a result of denser-packed trees eclipsing the sunlight. Near-total darkness engulfed Twilight. The purple alicorn used an illumination spell to light the way forward, causing her horn to project similar lighting to that of torchlight. More than enough to see the trees in front of her and follow the sound, she figured.

As Twilight continued to the source of the sound, it not only got louder, it appeared to be intertwined with the cries of Timberwolves, identical to the ones she heard earlier. Just as Twilight thought she had reached the point where the sound was at its zenith, it suddenly stopped and fell silent, along with the pained howls of the Timberwolves. Twilight looked around frantically to try and pinpoint the where the sound had last come from, but only saw more trees and foliage. She decided to take a chance and move in the direction that she thought she had last heard it.

Still, nothing but trees and overgrowth.

Just when Twilight was about to retrace her steps to a less dense area to identify the source using flight, a small sliver of light caught her eye. Out of a tiny gap in between tree trunks, weak daylight steadily trickled. Twilight tentatively inched forward and inspected the gap, which appeared to be barely large enough for a pony to fit through. Twilight dispelled the illumination spell she had cast and peered through the gap, wincing as her eyes were assaulted by the transition from near-total darkness to low lighting. Once her eyes adjusted to the increased brightness, Twilight analyzed her new surroundings.

There appeared to be a small clearing, enough for sunlight to permeate onto the forest ground. While clearings were certainly uncommon in the Everfree especially, that was not what had Twilight's attention. The ground in the clearing was scattered with what seemed like blackened twigs, sticks, and small branches, and patches of the grass in the clearing were singed black, as if small fires had spontaneously erupted in random spots.

But what stood out the most above all the carnage was the two-legged being with the glowing sunset-hued wrists and intricate trench coat.

Everfree Forest

A few minutes before the "sound"...

I held Shadow Price gingerly in my grip, feeling comfort in the gun's simple yet meticulous design. I took great care to step around tree roots protruding from the ground to avoid tripping and leaving myself vulnerable to potential hostiles.

I navigated through the forest for a few more minutes before arriving at a small open area surrounded by trees - a clearing in the forest. Welcoming the change in setting, I stepped into the clearing, registering the small amount of sunlight infiltrating through the treetops. The area, as a result, was noticeably more illuminated than the rest of the forest.

I stopped in my tracks. It came to my attention; something wasn't quite right, and hasn't been since we had our little mortality revelation. Question is, what was it?

I tilted my head, carefully listening for forest ambience.

'Guardian? What do you hear?'

"Nothing," I said flatly.

'So what's the problem?'

I didn't answer. I took a few steps forward. The only thing I could hear was the audible crunching of undergrowth and fallen leaves beneath my boots with every step I took. The insects and birds I heard earlier were mysteriously quiet. I looked around, swiveling my auto rifle to align with my sight, sensing no change in my environment.

Still. Complete silence. I could very well have been on the airless surface of the Moon, and there would be no difference in ambient sound.

It was as if I were under heavy scrutiny by the forest itself. The forest was watching my every movement, and it, unlike myself in the Cosmodrome, had the home advantage. The familiarity the forest initially granted me dissipated, leaving only an eerie sense of being watched.

I looked around somewhat nervously, almost wishing that some deformed monster would just attack me already and be done with it. Whatever it was, if there was even something, it was taking its sweet-ass time making its move.

"Too quiet," Super Good Advice whispered suspiciously from my back, talking for the first time in half an hour. A new record.

I kept an eye on my radar, but I deemed it more important to rely primarily on my physical senses rather than technology. I learned from experience after being ambushed by Stealth Vandals that the radar doesn't always give me information on time.

The feeling didn't cease. A million eyes were on me. Every tree's individual leaves had grown eyes and were watching me, every denizen of the forest leering at the strange being who had dared trespass into their domain. The forest was waiting for me to make a move as much as I was waiting for it, judging my potential as a threat to its natural equilibrium.

Snap!

I heard from behind me.

'Shit.'

I turned. A wood-like abomination leapt at me, jaws agape, obviously with the intent of taking a hefty bite of my cranium. I reflexively swung Shadow Price at my attacker like a bat, causing a sickening crack to echo throughout the forest. With a whimper, the abomination flew back from the force of the swing and collided with a tree. After chipping the tree bark with its momentum, the abomination landed on the ground unceremoniously, unmoving.

'Wish granted...' I glibly thought.

I approached the creature slowly, my gun's sights trained on it. I stood over it, and lightly nudged it with the tip of my boot.

Dead.

Ghost appeared next to me and floated over to the abomination's corpse. The creature's head was twisted at an awkward angle, and its eyes (or lack thereof) were lifeless. However, its body, more specifically, its constitution, proved more intriguing.

"It's a wolf. Except it's made of...wood?" the Light construct asked in confusion, giving voice to my thoughts.

The wooden wolf (or should I say Timberwolf?) truly perplexed me. Sticks and branches seemed to make up its entire body, and didn't just serve as an exoskeleton! Did it have organs? A brain? What could possibly be powering such a creature? What else did this land have to offer? For this moment, my inner Warlock's thirst for knowledge, which I usually hid behind a facade of wry humor, overrode Guardian protocol.

As I was excitedly contemplating transmatting the wolf to the ship for study, my Ghost hovered in front of the dead wolf's muzzle. I could tell Ghost was equally enthused by the finding.

"I wonder why it attacked us," Ghost mused. "Perhaps its kind is territorial? Or-"

All of a sudden, the wolf jolted to life, its eyes lighting up with a sickly glowing green color, reminiscent of a Hive creature. It immediately began snapping its jaws haphazardly at my Ghost, who barely had enough time to avoid the attack. The Ghost in question yelped and promptly zipped away from the wolf, hiding behind me. The wolf's head, spurned by some unseen force, loudly snapped back into place, and the wolf began to lunge at us, growling menacingly.

My scholarly interest in the wolf waned, replaced by remorselessness. I brought up Shadow Price and shot a burst of bullets into its forelegs. The wood composing its legs, all but brittle against lead, shattered and snapped into pieces as a result of the kinetic force of the bullets.

I was shocked to see the wolf not recoiling in pain, but inching slowly toward us despite the loss of two of its legs, with a die-hard intent to kill us. The splintered wood on the ground that were formerly its forelegs swiftly moved to replace the missing limbs. The splintered wood, once in place, shifted and clicked together to resemble the lost forelimbs. The wolf casually regarded its newly constructed forelegs and prepared to leap at us.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked to no one in particular. I could hear my Ghost's shell quivering in fear behind me.

I shot the wolf once again, this time in the head. The wolf's head exploded in splinters after the fifth shot, the body collapsing immediately after.

'Well, I guess that means they don't have brains...' I thought in slight disappointment. So much for a vivisection. I ejected the spent magazine and replaced it autonomically, the movements long drilled into my head since I first became a Guardian.

I wasn't allowed to do much else, as I heard the rustling of plant growth not far from here. Out of the foliage came a wolf of the same kind as our headless wooden friend, only noticeably larger in stature, with sharper wooden fangs and claws. Its muzzle and snout seemed to be weathered by past damage, resembling scars. The wolf glared at me with those Hive-like eyes, and howled into the forest air. Not a second later, several more wolves arrived on the spot, all smaller than the aforementioned wolf, but threatening nonetheless. The pack of wolves, ushered forth by the presumed alpha male, formed a circle around me, encompassing nearly the whole clearing, with myself at the center.

"Ghost. Hide," I hastily whispered to my Ghost, who was still behind me.

It had no problem taking refuge in its pocket dimension. But it knew I couldn't follow it to safety. I stood, still facing the alpha male in defiance.

'You can't possibly be thinking of taking all of them on alone!"

"I am."

'I could get you to orbit!'

"No."

'Why not?'

"We won't make any headway from inside the ship. We'll just end up coming back down here, and fighting anyway."

I tilted my head in the direction of the Timberwolves. "Besides. This is much more interesting," I said, smirking dangerously at the alpha male. It howled in response, despite not being able to see the mocking expression behind my helmet. Signaled by the alpha male to attack, all the wolves concurrently rushed at me, barking and growling.

'Suit yourself. Just...be careful.'

Before I could prepare a smarmy reply, an estimated ten or so wolves charged at me from every direction. I brought up my rifle and dispensed a magazine into four of the wolves' heads, causing the creatures' headless bodies to collapse. I waited for the rest of the wolves to be within biting range, then I activated Blink, appearing a meter away from my original position. The wolves, who had not been expecting their target to be a reality-bending Warlock, pounced on where I originally stood, all at once. The six wolves collided with each other in midair with a crack, and collapsed in a heap.

I snickered at the hapless creatures. I knew they weren't finished yet, though. I dematerialized my auto rifle and unholstered my shotgun, The Crash, from my back. As I switched the safety on the weapon to off, I noticed a red blip on my radar, slowly and disarmingly closing in.

The alpha male, who had been watching the entire thing, apparently thought that I was an easy target to sneak up on. It leapt at me in the same manner as the first wolf I had encountered. I sent a blast of energy from my palm into its face.

It was not fazed in the slightest, nor did it flinch.

The wolf tackled me, sending me tumbling to the ground. I landed on the ground harshly, my shotgun clattering to the side. I grappled the large wooden wolf, holding it back with my two arms as it snapped its jaws ferociously. The sheer amount of force it was taking just to hold back my assailant was enormous. Just where did its strength come from?

The alpha male, sensing my physical strain, redoubled its efforts to kill me. I held it by the neck, recoiling as its bites were getting closer and closer to my visor...

Throttling it would be useless, I realized. How would you choke something that wasn't even flesh and blood?

I looked to my side, in between audible snaps of the wolf's jaw. My shotgun was well within arm's reach. All I needed was an opportunity...

I had to think fast. I internally delved into the reservoir of Light infused in my being, not seeking out the Void, but the brighter Light. A more raw energy, more direct than the mysterious dark energy of the Void. There, I found the Light akin to a second Sun. It was dimmer than normal due to the absence of the Traveler, but it still crackled fervently. I willed my mind to touch the Light. Let it engulf my mind, and embrace the pyre.

Don't burn. Kindle, and become one with the Solar Light.

There are are flames that even the Darkness cannot extinguish.

I returned to reality, to the lovely sight of the alpha male's wooden jaws a centimeter from my visor. Immediately, I felt a rush of power throughout my being. I focused the newfound Solar Light into my Sunbreaker gauntlets, causing them to illuminate ever-brighter. I swiftly intercepted the wolf's bite with my left Sunbreaker. The creature made the worst mistake of its life.

It bit down.

The wolf's jaw caught fire, and it comically began flailing its head around with its mouth aflame. The mental image of the wooden wolf shaking its flaming head from side to side was forever saved in my databanks, courtesy of perfect Exo memory. Once the humor wore off, I reached to the side and grabbed the misplaced shotgun. I pulled the trigger, causing a crash to resound throughout the clearing, with the added effect of blowing the wolf's face away and dousing the fire.

With that threat out of the way, I got back to my feet, only to find that all the wolves I had previously incapacitated, even those whose heads I had completely shattered, were now recovering and rebuilding their lost body parts. I looked at the alpha male and saw that it was rebuilding its head, using twigs and sticks from the environment.

To put it bluntly, I got pissed, which was quite unbecoming of a Warlock, who were supposed to be disciplined, emotionless, scholarly enforcers of the Traveler's will. I approached the alpha male, who was almost finished rebuilding itself, and shot it multiple times, point-blank.

"Why. Won't. You. Just. DIE?!" I maliciously yelled at the abomination, punctuating each vitriolic word with a trigger pull.

After I spent the remaining five shells in anger, only a pile of shattered, burnt twigs remained. To my immense surprise and fury, even the pile slowly began reconstructing itself.

The wolf's subordinates, who were finished rebuilding themselves, lunged at me, reigniting the conflict.

Reigniting...

I thought back to when my Sunbreaker set the alpha male on fire. Fire seems to send them into a panic, and slows down their reconstruction.

'Of course!'

I dematerialized my shotgun, freeing both of my hands for use. I conjured two Solar grenades and threw them in front of me. A sizable barrier of fire separated me and the pack of approaching wolves. Two wolves that weren't quick enough to halt their charge were irreparably incinerated by the wall of fire from the Solar grenades. Their howls of immense suffering reached their fellow wolves. The rest of the pack looked at the burning remains of their brethren and stood back, howling and barking at the strange being who dared intrude in their forest and harm their kin.

While Sunbreakers increased the time that Solar grenades remained active, they wouldn't last forever. I could have just carpet-bombed the area with Firebolt grenades, but that was costly in terms of energy usage; I needed to ration my Light shrewdly. So I turned to the huge red machine gun on my back, who was surprisingly quiet throughout the whole ordeal.

"Care to offer some super good advice?" I asked as I unstrapped the huge weapon, firmly holding it in my arms.

"Just some calculations."

"Give 'em to me."

"Your odds of survival are 3,721 to 1..."

"Unless?" I asked expectantly.

"Unless you pull this trigger."

Super Good Advice disengaged its own safety mechanism with a click. The wall of fire from the Solar Grenades petered out, giving the enemy leeway to attack. The wooden wolves resumed their hunt, planning to overwhelm me with sheer numbers. I pulled the trigger and held it, firing from the hip, as accuracy was not a concern with Super Good Advice, nor was ammo.

The powerful, terrible sound of a continuous machine gun barrage permeated the stagnant air. Solar-infused rounds zipped forth indiscriminately and hit their marks on wolves, tree trunks, and on objects deeper within the forest. The unsuspecting wolves were ill-prepared for such mediums of attack, as the Solar rounds had the effect of puncturing cleanly through wooden limbs and craniums, other instances outright setting the wolves on fire. Wolves who were quick enough to rebuild their lost limbs were promptly cut down by the seemingly infinite slew of elementally-charged bullets. By this time, the alpha male had rebuilt itself to reasonable functioning capacity (three legs and most of its head). It let out a guttural high-pitched cry. Instantly, all wolves who had legs turned tail and began to flee.

Finally, I released the trigger, choosing not to fire on the retreating wolves. Super Good Advice halted its rapid flurry of bullets, its barrel literally smoking. I checked the magazine.

...Half empty. Or half full, depending on how you look at it. Not bad at all.

Super Good Advice didn't seem to agree with me. "Just because I recall almost all missed shots to the magazine doesn't mean you should, you know, miss almost all your shots!" the gun wailed.

I ignored the gun's complaints, choosing to observe as the last of the wolves had retreated. The alpha male turned to look at me with its glowing green eyes and let out a growl. I raised Super Good Advice and fired a warning shot near its feet. The wolf yelped and hastily disappeared into the foliage.

"Yeah, that's right, run like a little bitch!" Advice eloquently taunted.

The foliage behind the wolf rustled, then stopped altogether. Once again, the forest fell unnaturally silent. Yet, the feeling of being watched never went away. I looked around the clearing, then stopped as I saw it.

A pair of seemingly glowing violet eyes peering at me from a gap in the trees.

Prelude: The Collapse

"Into the void, the spark. After the spark, the fire. After the fire, the void."

-Nerigal Savant III description

Equestria

Canterlot Castle

Princess Celestia saw it.

It was beautiful, curious, and foreboding, all at once. An interweaving tapestry of images manifested before her eyes, as real and intricate as she was sure they would have been in person. The images were as surreal as a dream sequence, but had a certain definitive quality in them that assured her this was no illusion.

From what she saw, she knew the depictions were not of any of the realms she'd surveyed in her many years of life. It was of another universe, similar in composition to her own but unfamiliar in many ways.

A completely colonized solar system that knew peace.

A civilization that was several times more advanced than the one she led.

And at the head of the mysterious civilization was a celestial body of Light, nowhere near as large as the Moon but massive nevertheless. With this mysterious spherical benefactor at the forefront, all life in the solar system prospered, as evidenced by the shining metropolises and the completely lit planets on which the cities were built on. Fleets of enormous colony ships promised settlement of the stars and beyond.

Cooperation. Prosperity. Harmony. The sight warmed Celestia's heart as much as the first Hearth's Warming Eve.

Then arrived the Darkness.

The civilization, which was undergoing a Golden Age at the time, was taken completely by surprise. The unfamiliar race of bipedals, backed by advanced weaponry and sapient robots modeled after their own kind, fought back valiantly, but were overwhelmed by the agents of the Darkness. Planet after planet fell. Civilization crumbled under the harbinger of a dark age. The former apex race was forced all the way back to its home planet. Even their moon was lost, to Celestia's immense sadness. If it was her solar system being invaded, she, and Luna especially, would have defended Equestria's moon to the bitter end.

The Princess turned her attention to the celestial sphere, who, in defense of the beings it had taken under its wing, sacrificed a majority of its own Light and finite power in order to drive the Darkness back.

But was it enough?

Time, like the inconceivable cipher that it was, answered questions with mysteries and mocking hints. The Light flickered, the celestial body went dormant, and for an evanescent instant, everything was quiet.

Time, literally, came to a halt. Celestia pondered. Was this the past of another universe? The story of a civilization, right down to its end? If so, then what was this Darkness precisely? How could it eliminate an entire race at its peak? Just how powerful was it?

...Could it claw its way into her subjects' domain, the land she swore to justly lead and protect?

Immediately following her thoughts, the seams of time and space raveled, and the setting blurred as if entire star systems were being traversed several times faster than light. The Sun Princess registered the displacement of location and time, due in part to her own knowledge of the cosmos.

It stopped at...Equis?

The scene focused into Equestria, Celestia's native land. She recognized the surroundings as the quaint town of Ponyville, where her faithful student Twilight Sparkle and her friends resided. Citizens went about their daily lives, enjoying yet another day of peace. Ponies intermingled and laughed heartily, and Celestia saw a rainbow contrail zipping across the distant blue sky.

Celestia didn't know why, but she couldn't shake the feeling that this was the present.

The seams of time unraveled, so quickly and so abruptly that she could not discern how far into the past or future she had gone to, or which.

But what Celestia saw in this Equestria... It was from no past she recognized.

When Princess Celestia was arrived in Equestria's future, the ruler, to her abstract horror, was greeted by the sight of Ponyville's town hall burning. Around her, malevolent creatures ran amok, firing strange devices that Celestia knew were built for war. Terrible flying ships darted across the sky, dropping off more of the monsters then disappearing. Many of Ponyville's houses and establishments alike collapsed as they were wracked with explosions of energy. Sounds of ponies panicking and the monsters waging their grotesque warfare upon Ponyville's innocent populace melded in the thick atmosphere of death and destruction. Bodies consisting of mostly ponies were scattered about, like weeds in a decrepit yard.

Celestia wanted to do something, anything, to stop the massacre, but somehow her physical body was not present, and only her consciousness was to suffer. She had just managed to salvage her composure from the gruesome scene...

Until she witnessed the Elements' last stand.

In the center of the town square there was, amidst the carnage, a purple force field in the shape of a small half bubble. Hundreds of the evil troops, large, small, and equally menacing surrounded the bubble, firing away with their myriad weaponry. Some bonelike creatures even clawed away at the shield with fetid claws, others with enormous blades. Celestia recognized the violet color of the magic as Twilight's. The force field's occupants confirmed her fears; their condition did not help in the slightest.

Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia's beloved protégé, stood bravely with poised wings and a sparking horn, grim determination etched on her facial features. All her concentration was allocated to her horn in order to provide energy for the force field. Rarity, using her natural abilities as a unicorn, stood adjacent to her friend as she assisted alicorn with maintaining the barrier. Obvious fatigue demonstrated her lesser aptitude with magic compared to Twilight.

Behind them, a yellow Pegasus by the name of Fluttershy worked diligently to patch up Rainbow Dash's wounds, attempting to ignore the chaos outside the bubble. Rainbow, on the other hoof, was grimacing at the injuries on her wings that rendered them clipped and her flightless. She looked at the horde of monsters attempting to claw its way into their safe haven with contempt.

Ominously, Spike, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie were nowhere to be seen.

"Uh, Twilight?" Rainbow started, slightly weak, "I don't think we're going anywhere. We're completely surrounded." Flight was out of the question. With Rainbow Dash's wounds, and Rarity and Twilight's exhausting occupation with the barrier, it was clear that none of the ponies were ready to fight, either.

Twilight still had her look of conviction, though Celestia saw right through the mask. "We'll be okay! All we have to do is-" she panted and sweat trickled down her forehead from the added effort of repelling twenty or so monsters that latched onto the barrier, "-hold out until the princesses arrive with reinforcements."

'Twilight! I'm here! It'll be alright!' Celestia iterated as loud as she could, to no avail. She was still a mere ghost in a hopeless future.

Judging by the rapidly rising volume of dark creatures around their barrier, Celestia saw that even Twilight was beginning to lose hope. Celestia wanted to nothing but comfort Twilight and her friends, and protect them from the Darkness, but was held back by her ethereal form.

Though that begs the question: where was the future's Celestia at this time? Couldn't she have seen it fit to protect her protégé from the apocalypse itself?! Celestia seethed.

Minutes passed by agonizingly slowly. Fluttershy had finished bandaging Rainbow's wings, and the both of them just sat helplessly while the unicorns worked their magics. The sound of dark creatures recklessly throwing themselves at the shield assaulted their ears. Fluttershy yelped and recoiled in fear.

Rarity, who was beginning to get wobbly at the knees, looked at Fluttershy in concern, then back to Twilight. She spoke up over the pandemonium. "Twilight, dear... Forgive me, but I don't know if I can keep this up any longer," she said, her voice strained.

"We can do this, Rarity! I'm tired too, but we just need to wait for help-"

"And what if there is no help?" Rainbow said bitterly as she glared at the ground.

All of the others, even the demure Fluttershy, gasped at Dash's remark.

"It's true. If they were going to send help, they would have done it already."

"Rainbow Dash! Don't say things like that! Defeatism isn't befitting the best flyer in all of Equestria." Twilight said warmly and encouragingly, rather than mocking. "Your confidence has always inspired all of us," she gestured to the other two ponies, who nodded fervently.

Twilight looked Dash in the eye. "Please. Have confidence in us."

Celestia, for a moment, took pride in her student. Twilight could worry over the littlest of things, but when it came to helping others, she was ever the optimist.

Rainbow Dash sighed and looked up, making a small smile. "You... You're right. Sorry. It's just... When you lose a part of you," she looked at her badly injured wings. "You tend to see the negative side of things."

Twilight put a hoof on her friend's shoulder and grinned. "I understand."

She looked to all of her friends, a large portion of her concentration still on maintaining the purple barrier. "And no matter what happens today... It was an honor to have you all as friends," she said, equal parts happy and sad.

"Likewise, darling! Life without you ponies would be simply unimaginable!"

"It... It was so great being with you girls."

"You guys are the coolest. Like, way more than twenty percent!"

'It was an honor to be your mentor, Twilight.'

For a fleeting moment, Celestia thought Twilight could sense her presence. Twilight smiled and her eyes grew moist. She opened her mouth to say something...

"Um... Sorry for interrupting, but... What is that over there?" Fluttershy pointed with a hoof, trembling.

The Elements and Celestia turned to see a gargantuan ship hovering above, blotting out the stormy skies. A smaller but still huge hunk of metal detached from the ship and fell to the ground with a deafening crash.

"I dunno, but I doubt those are our reinforcements," Rainbow said skeptically as she squinted her eyes to see around the monsters clamoring to get inside the barrier.

The hunk of metal shifted and parts of it unfolded, like a compacted, automated piece of intricate technology. The thing eventually stopped changing, and was revealed to be in the shape of a giant metal spider with a pointed protrusion on the top.

Celestia realized what it must have been. After all, Equestria once waged wars of its own. She wished she could alert the Elements so that they could try to vacate the area, among other things.

The giant metal arachnoid juggernaut took sight of the ponies in the middle of town square and began aiming a red laser at the force field. The ponies inside were still puzzling over what it was and what to do, and decided to stand their ground.

'No, no, no, no! Twilight, everypony, MOVE!'

Unfortunately, Celestia's frantic warning fell on deaf ears. The large tank, sparing no further delay, fired a salvo of explosive projectiles from its main cannon at the magic barrier, and caused a huge detonation that sent body parts from the monsters around the bubble flying into the air. When the smoke cleared, only a long-spanning scorch mark remained.

Time froze. Princess Celestia felt like screaming, and disintegrating the nearest object with magic. However, she was not allowed any moment of mourning or rage, as the scene zoomed out of Ponyville and focused on the status of Equestria as a whole.

Good fortune was, again, working against her, it seemed.

Equestria lay in shambles, and became an epicenter and a battlefield for evil creatures, all vying for control. Brutish albeit advanced scavengers, nightmarish undead abominations, relentless war machines, militant conquerors, and even strange glowing corrupted versions of the other creatures, and to her terror, corrupted ponies, were among those creatures that she saw. The evil factions clashed with one another, paying no mind to the collateral damage. Almost nopony remained, and what little resistances ponykind could muster were promptly crushed by one or more of the feuding factions. From the deserts of the Western towns such as Appleloosa to urban environments like Fillydelphia, no place was spared the Darkness' infighting.

The location finally zoned in on Canterlot Castle. The castle was in ruins and was heavily weathered by warfare. Obvious signs of a siege were present, but there was no one alive, monster or equine. Bodies of both sides dotted the castle grounds, and Celestia took morbid satisfaction in knowing that some of the Darkness' own forces fell with her little ponies.

Anger. An emotion so befitting of mortals. Celestia thought she had cast aside such feelings long ago, but it seems that old wounds were reopening.

Celestia commanded her consciousness to enter the interior of the castle, and so it did. Navigating through the dilapidated remnants of her castle halls swiftly by memory, she arrived at the throne room in no time.

If Celestia's consciousness had a jaw, it would have dropped.

It looked akin to the destruction she and Luna had caused when her sister succumbed to the influence of the Nightmare. The entirety of the throne room was scorched black, by fire spells she recognized and practiced herself, and by others that were completely foreign to her. The left portion of the room was missing, and moonlight shone through the orifice. However, what was in front of the ruined throne was what caught her attention.

Celestia and Luna's bodies lay still on the cracked ground. Standing calmly over their corpses was a strange bipedal creature that donned a trench coat similar to the ones worn by the warlocks of old Equestrian lore. Its glowing gauntlets were seemingly infused with the Sun's light, with all the intensity and heat of the star packed into two pieces of armor. On its left arm was a strange band that was alit with alien lettering. The bipedal creature wore a helmet - for protection, Celestia assumed, as it couldn't possibly serve any arcane purpose - and in one of its hands it clutched a contraption that had to be of the same crafting and purpose as those of the monstrous foot soldiers she encountered earlier.

Princess Celestia hated this creature already - for presumably killing the future's princesses (and by extent, dooming Twilight and her friends), for desecrating their corpses, and for simply coming from the same place the Darkness did, as indicated by its bipedal stance and its weaponry.

Hatred. Such an ugly emotion that she and Luna thought themselves above, as rulers needed to be kindred. However, Celestial had no quandaries with the feeling now.

Celestia "stepped" closer to the warlock, and widened her eyes in pure shock as the being looked up, its visor fixated squarely on her. The warlock sheathed its weapon on its back, and lifted both of its hands halfway up. Right before Celestia, its left hand erupted into flames; its other created a ball of dark energy.

The warlock hurled the bolts of Light and Dark energy at Celestia's ethereal body, and time stopped.

With a start, Celestia woke up yelling in the Royal Canterlot Voice in her chambers. She looked around frantically, taking in her surroundings.

'It was... a nightmare?'

At that moment, Princess Luna, flanked by two Night Guards, burst through her chamber's doors.

"Sister! Art thou hurt?!" Luna sternly inquired in the Royal Voice.

Celestia's eyes darted from between Luna and the Guards, and she put a hoof to her temple. Celestia couldn't put into words how glad she was to be back home with her beloved sister. However, there were guards present, and no matter how much she hated the fact, she had to keep up appearances.

"I'm...fine, dear sister. My panicking was merely the result of a strange occurrence in the night."

Luna raised an eyebrow, but nodded. She gestured to the two Guards. "Brave guards of the night, you are dismissed," she said in her "normal" voice now that she was calm. The Guards saluted and departed silently.

The door closed, and immediately Celestia pounced and nuzzled a perplexed Luna.

"Luna...I'm so glad you're here," she said with the fervor of a young filly.

That served to puzzle Luna even more. "Yes, as I am for you. But I know a feint when I see one. What really happened?" she asked seriously, as she took note of Celestia's bedraggled, stressed appearance. Her normally flowing prismatic mane was now flaccid, colored a dull pink.

Celestia withdrew from Luna and took on a somber look. "It was a nightmare, as young and childish as that sounds. But it seemed all too realistic."

Luna shook her head. "Like all dreams seem while they are being conceived. But sister, we must not delude ourselves into thinking we are above mortal function. Strip away the agelessness and we are ponies with a horn and wings."

The Princess of the Night continued, "But your oneiric distress was quite dire when I sensed it. Would you like to talk about it?"

"No, not now. I don't think it is important," Celestia lied. Truly, the revelations of another, lost universe and their own hopeless future terrified her above all else, but it simply wouldn't do to burden her sister's mind along with hers. Celestia, when she could, would interpret this knowledge thoroughly, while taking every available measure to prevent such a cataclysmic event from formulating. But not now.

Luna nodded in understanding, and the two shared a moment of silence.

"So, you sensed my nightmare... I assume that's why you roused the Guards and came over?"

"Yes, but the Guards insisted they accompany me." Luna looked down at her hooves, suddenly finding the intricate flooring rather interesting. "I didn't interfere, as you said not to enter your dreams for fear of what I might find in your nightmares..."

Celestia adopted a warm smile. "I thank you for heeding my warnings, Sister."

'And thank the heavens that she did...'

"This one was exceptionally strange," the Princess of the Sun muttered to herself, referring to the revelations of their future. Could it even be possible for such dark forces to exist? Evil so dark it despises other evil? Could the monsters and the warlock simply be fabrications of the olden machinations of her mind, and Equestria's fall being a simulation; a projection of her earthly fears? And what of the foreign civilization, and their sphere of Light? The Warlock seemed to be of the same race of the one ravaged by the Darkness. Could the Light truly be corrupted by the dark?

Celestia adopted a far off look in her eyes, one that Luna recognized from whenever her sister was lost in thought. Those who were mortal often pondered what went on in the minds of the ageless; Luna knew.

Even as a fellow immortal, it frightened her nonetheless.

Luna patiently waited for her sister to finish with her thoughts. Celestia, after a few minutes, snapped out of her reverie and smiled sheepishly at Luna. She made a proposition: one of her favorite pastimes from simpler days.

"Since sleep clearly isn't an option anymore..." Celestia looked out the window and saw the Moon glistening in the nightly scenery. "Well, I wager the night sky looks beautiful at this hour. Care to join me outside, sister?"

Princess Luna beamed as radiantly as the Sun itself.

Author's Note

I know that many people have problems with Destiny's "story." I believe there truly was potential with the game's storytelling, and the way the lore is portrayed in-game. And I must say, Destiny's lore is quite something, in my opinion, so I'm trying my hand at explaining certain aspects that the game itself failed to cover.

To that end, comments and/or constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.