The ~SIVA Crisis

The Dreadnaught,

Rings of Saturn,

Darkness Zone

The Dreadnaught. A place any guardian with a sane mind would know it’s not the best of places to be, regardless of stature or courage one encompasses. It was a dark and harrowing place, to put it blatantly.

The grotesqueries of the entire ship had always put me on edge. From the pale, ghostly greenish-grey hue that saturated the surrounding areas, to the space dust that settled onto the ship, giving it a more freaky depiction, and to the eerie screeches that would resonated frequently out of thin air. More than likely something or someone dying.

The place was literally pure Darkness. You best have someone with you while you’re here, because if you don’t, you might not make out alive. The problem with being here, on this ship, was that since we’re so far away from the Traveler, we’re not nearly as powerful. Greater distance from our Traveler means less power. The more guardians together, though, the better.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t shit my pants upon arriving here for the first time.

Maggots or worm like creatures would burrow their ways into the mysterious sand that covered the floor, and there would barely be any light for us to see when scouring some dark crevasses that were in the walls of the ship. There were many tunnels that would span out in different directions, some of the paths leading to valuable treasures.

Thrall would claw their way from the puddles of black, tarry goo, which littered some places, and claw you relentlessly.

But the Dreadnaught isn’t as physically haunting to me as much as it is mentally; not sure about other Guardians, though, so who really gives a hoot? There were many bad memories stirred up here, and ever since Oryx’s demise, I swore to never step foot here again, but look where I am now. It seems, as they say in old lore, fate would have it…

You know what? No. No cliches for my story. None. Nope. Not doing it. I’m a Hunter, and I do things with fresh style.

My ship hovered to a close height above the ground and dropped me off in the Hull Breach, where a giant Cabal Ship had crashed its way through (about a year ago mind you) as an act of revenge on Oryx, who had lead a Taken assault on Phobos.

The Dreadnaught was still hovering above Saturn’s rings, though Hive and Taken life (if Taken could even be considered to have life) here wasn’t as great as it used to be since Oryx was eradicated. It seemed as though his spawn still lived on as there were Knights, Acolytes, and Wizards scattered around. There were even some Cabal soldiers, still fighting their way to a prideless and pointless victory; I doubted they even knew Oryx was dead.

Ghost was staring at me, its form spinning and eye blinking. “Hunter? Hunter? You there? Or are you in another trance?”

“Oh, I’m here,” I said, my voice slightly snarky. “Just thinking about how much I hate being in this place.”

“Right. Well, I’ve marked the coordinated on where I believe we should go. Marking them on your mini-map.”

“Roger that.”

“Take as much time as you need. Oh, and please for the love of the Light, be careful!”

Armed and determined to get my weapon sorted out, I began sprinting my way through the alien world, specifically through a trench, bypassing any threats that would provoke a fight with me, which would eventually lead me to the Mausoleum. Being a Hunter sure had its perks as going invisible to slip past enemy lines was priceless. Let’s see Warlocks do that!

Even though I was invisible, some enemies could hear my movements and anticipated my whereabouts from atop the split rift; there weren’t any Hive from what I could tell, only those dreaded Cabal that never seem to reload their weapons. I kept running, but my invisibility ran out. Damn! Perhaps next time I should make more concentrated smoke bombs for a longer duration of invisibility….

I stopped.

I heard a jetpack roar in the air and shortly after a small quake resonated. With my finger ready on the trigger, I slowly turned around and saw an angry Centurion. Guarded with a Solar Shield, its ugly face looking at me as if I had wronged it by minding my own business and trotting my way through here harmlessly. Apparently that’s a space crime and therefore must be punished for my actions. Oh, how I wish I could destroy every single Cabal that get in my way.

Towering about six feet (taller than myself) and weighing in at 800 pounds, these Cabal were savages and literally blew everything and anything that got in their way. If you must know, they were a military operation, commanded by some organization called The Empire. Beats me. All I know was I wanted to kick some Cabal ass.

I double jumped my way in the air and backflipped my way to the ledge above, giving me the high ground advantage. The Centurion jetted its way to me, and I evaded its landing.

I immediately discharged some shots from my Boomer, realizing it was ineffective, given that it had a Solar Shield. Though, being the smart bastard I was, I decided to bring along another friend with me. “Ghost,” I said between shots, “Give me my Lord of Wolves.”

“You got it!”

My Boomer was stowed and with me I held my favourite shotgun of all time, The Lord of Wolves; it was a refined Shrapnel Launcher that Guardians could use. It was something that was given to me by Variks after helping with Skolas’s capture at the top of the Vex Citadel a few years ago.

Oh, how those were the times, when things were so simple and great. How I wish things could be exactly as how they were…

I dodged the incoming explosive bullets being discharged from the Centurion’s weapon. I ran a fair distance between my opponent, then used my feet as a means to slide and stop myself. Hands in the ground, back bent, and weapon in the other, I gazed up, and (with the help of my tactical visor in my helmet) predicated my foe’s next move. Swiftly, I translocated myself to the other side of the rift and began firing my weapon, each burst rumbling and striking the enemy.

The nice thing about Lord of Wolves was that all the pellets stuck the target, meaning it always did maximum damage. You’ll either hit your target, or do no damage at all. That’s how this weapon rolls. Still, though, it was an effective instrument of siege and I welcomed it like an old friend.

Now then.

Even though my weapon dealt Solar Damage, the Centurion didn’t go down without a fight. These were tough sons of bitches, and the Cabal don’t falter to defeat so easily.

With its overshield gone, nothing else could surely stop me from taking out my target, right?

I thought wrong.

Just when things couldn’t get any more annoying, two Legionaries blasted their way through amidst debris and opened fire on me. Even though they were lesser than their Centurion brethren, they were still a pain in the ass—another inconvenience. Still, though, I played around with the idea of more killing.

Realizing that the Centurion’s shield had been taken down and knowing that it would take awhile for it to regenerate, I summoned my Boomer and took the plunge: I unleashed my devastating Arc weapon, taking in the thundering roars of explosions as they struck my foe.

I changed course and vaulted behind a rock for cover and for good reason too. The Centurion’s fire had become more concentrated and put a moderate dent in my shields, leaving me enough incentive to strike back with a meaner vendetta. As my eyes steered up, I noticed a cliff I could jump to and perhaps use for an advantage.

For a moment there was silence. All firing had ceased. I wondered if the stupid Cabal had thought I was dead or ran away like a pussy; if they thought that, they were dumber than a barrel of rotting apples. On the contrary, they were actually smart and cunning, but in these instances I questioned their intelligence for creasing fire on me. Something had to be up.

Smoke bombs were a Hunter’s best friend. I had planted two of the little buggers right where I was situated, then went invisible, jumped up to the cliff, and crouched to oversee the battleground.

Hunters were just as good of strategists as the Cabal, if not better.

The Centurion slowly creeped its way to the rock where it thought I was. When it reached it, a toxic cloud of smoke puffed in its face, causing him to flinch and flail its arms around, trying to scatter the smoke. As I stood atop the cliff, I shot my weapon at it, eventually causing it and the other Legionaries to falter to my wrath.

I jumped down and saw the three Cabal soldiers writhing around, trying to reach for their weapon in hopeless desperation to strike vengeance on me. With my Boomer hanging limply in my hand, I walked over to them, and put my foot on the Centurion’s arm, slowly putting pressure on it (being the sadistic fuck I am) and luxuriated in its frantic cries.

Eventually I put the Cabal threats out of their misery.

And all was silent.

The Mausoleum wasn’t much different from the Hull Breach area. If anything, it was more annoying since the Cabal were stationed there as well, idly waiting to pick a fight with whatever they thought needed attacking. Luckily for me, I wasn’t heading in their direction as I was making my way to The Founts, where I could attune my weapon for better personal use. I found it strange that I was going to use Hive-Technology to augment my weapon, but I suppose the logic couldn’t be defiled since, well, the Hive made this weapon.

As I traversed through the place, jumping up to a platform where small silos with a flat top were planted on the top, I stopped briefly to drink in the surroundings. This might sound crazy (and believe me, I say alot of crazy shit) the Dreadnaught was beautiful in its own way: From the hanging metal chains (with hooks at the end of them) that vaulted from the extremely high ceiling, to the ghostly green atmosphere and strange energy that somehow gave the place light, and the ever haunting voices that would echo through the passageways of caves was truly chilling yet enticing.

My feet met the ground once again, and I steered myself to look over the wide vista to my right, where all sorts of treasures of wonders surely lied. You’d best have someone with you, though, because no one will be there to catch you if you fall. Invisible platforms were embedded in the air and ghost could easily locate them.

But that would be another adventure for another day.

Yet…inexcusably the Dreadnaught was some place I hated because of all the anguish it brought me. It’s a remembrance of all those whom I had wronged in our moments of desperation for survival and retribution against the King who had unleashed this darkness upon the worlds we were programmed to protect; when you lose someone you see as your blood brother, your family, your kinship…that changes you for the worse. You no longer wake up the same person you were; you no longer see the world in light, but rather despair because of the agony the universe can manifest.

I knew right now I had to see them before I took care of my weapon. My weapon can wait; this cannot.

With my weapon’s barrel in the ground, hands atop it, and me standing up looking in awe at the wide, open area, I summoned my ghost without even moving or saying anything; it’s amazing the connexion we Guardians have with our Ghosts. “Hey, Little Light,” I said. “Set a course to his yard. I need to pay my respects again. And come to terms with what I have done.”

“You sure? I knew coming here would be a bad idea. You get so emotional when you come to this place.”

“Please. This will be the last time. You have my word, Ghost.”

“All right. Marking the coordinates now.”

As I stayed put in my temporal reverie, I walked away, hoping I could redeem myself for what I had done six months ago.

Nothingness!

The past ten minutes had been the most harrowing minutes of my life. The way to the gravesite filled me with heart-bursting eternity of pounding terror. All the stories and legends I had heard years ago about Guardians not being able to feel emotion was all nonsense now. Because we could. We very well could. I think those stories and legends were all about instilling an impassive nature in us so we don’t get attached to those we work with, because, well, we’d lose sight of what must be done to save our city and the Traveler. Falling in love or having an attachment can be detrimental.

This was different. Because as I stood, a cool chill of pensive emotion coursed through me, making me feel something that is inexplicable.

I had crawled my way through the exhumed crevasse I had created long ago. I had picked a very special place I believed no Hive or Taken could reach as I had put a small wisp of Light to guard the site that was most sacred to me: The grave of my dead fellow Hunter, Orion. The only ones who knew of this were his friends and the fireteam members who helped me take down Oryx himself.

Now I was staring at his gravestone as if I was seeing it for the first time in my life. Like it was an enigma or something foreign to me. Everything around me was silent. I couldn’t hear the sounds of the terrible Hive that cry as they witness their deaths, or the remaining Taken spawning and unleashing its darkness. The only thing I heard were the voices in my head telling me that everything would be alright, that it wasn’t my fault, despite my consciousness knowing it was the awe striking-truth of my flaws.

I could feel the dirt beneath my feet as I stepped up to the threshold.

You’re probably curious as to why I put a Guardian’s grave here, in the Dreadnaught, arguably one of the darkest places around.

Well, the answer is simple: He didn’t want to come back home. He wanted to stay where he died. I couldn’t deny my brother’s dying wish now, could I?

The others didn’t entirely agree with his sentiment, but I refuted anything they did to discourage me from appeasing my brother’s request. Some were recalcitrant and hesitant of me digging a grave for my fellow friend, but I ignored their pleas of reason.

I stowed my weapon and sat down on the Light filled ground, and crossed my legs. Brushed my hands across the tombstone, felt the etched carvings.

Here Lies Orion

A Brave Hunter

A Talented Gunslinger

And the Best Friend Anyone Could Ask For

He was Hunter’s Brother, Albeit Not by Blood

Through Their Kinship, They Formed an Inseparable Bond

With the Love and Care of Other Guardians

May He Rest in Peace

Always

Ghost had materialized in front of me, his form spinning and eye blinking. “Hunter…Should you really be doing this yourself? What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is,” I said, my voice thickening with emotion. “I should’ve know better than to listen to my gut instinct. I should’ve listened to what he was saying!”

“Guardians die and come. It’s not like we won’t ever get another one.”

That was cold. But I couldn’t bark at Ghost. I really couldn’t. He was a machine and machines can’t understand emotion. I said nothing to him, but rather hinted my desire to be alone.

And so he listened.

If you really want to know what happened, I’ll tell you.

You might be wondering how he died and how I hold myself responsible.

I remember the moment like it was yesterday.

My fireteam and I were fighting the last impediment in the Raid of the Dreadnaught: The King himself.

A gigantic being hovering over the tail of his ship, Saturn in the distance, its rings orbiting near us, we fought wave after wave of Hive and Taken, seizing the Brand of Immortality to protect us from harm, slaying the four Ogres that dropped corrupted blights, allowing us to damage the King.

We were all exhausted, but we were all tempered by the fires of Light. We’d either die trying to save our Solar System from corruption of the Darkness or succeed in showing that the Light could be just as relentless and ruthless as the Darkness.

We kept fighting. Wave after wave of enemy.

Blood oozed out of my lower leg since I had been slashed by a Knight’s Cleaver (a sword), but I kept forging on. I eventually fell and couldn’t make it to the aura before Oryx unleashed his Wrath of the King, Light Draining attack on us. Orion noticed my fall and decided to rush up to help me to my feet. The others couldn’t move since they were so focused on eliminating the army of Taken that had us surrounded. There had to be some level of clearance, or else we’d all potentially perish after we lose the aura.

As I stumbled my way up, hoping on one leg, a Taken Centurion warped its way to us, shooting its weapon at us. Our shields were dented big time, and we might not have made, well…I wouldn’t have made it out alive if it weren’t for Orion pushing me toward the aura. I was helped by my fellow comrades to pull me in.

By the time I got in, Oryx attacked us with a vendetta and he did it well enough to drain Orion of his Light. “No!” I had shouted, wallowing in my blood, my knees on the ground, I crying out in torment as I watched the life of my brother be drained. His screams were loud and barbarous.

Bang!

Everything around me was silent. My ears were ringing from the harsh reality of everything. I refused to exist in the corporeal world for a brief moment as memories of Orion and I flashed in my head.

His Ghost was destroyed as well, making it impossible to revive him now.

I was enraged. I wanted to slay the Taken King with an equal vendetta.

Orion held me with his eyes. He gazed at me intensely and smiled. Then he opened his mouth to say something of importance, as if to speak to me; as if to speak my name, but his body began to slowly die; I could see it; we all could. Why, immediately after the last shed of hope we had of making it out alive, did despair cast itself upon us?

The despair was unlike anything I had witnessed before. It was sharper than a Hunter’s blade, more painful than its stab. The despair bleed out from him; it was unwavering and unearthly.

Such it was surely a moment of lucidity, when you see your life and the harm you do to others, all their unhappiness, yet no longer was it possible to change anything about it; or else you were yourself, only the instrument of suffering…about that, you can do nothing.

You are left hopeless.

When you see someone you thought of your kinship, your blood, someone who has been with you since the beginning, someone who you intrust with your secrets, your dreams, hopes, fears. Then to have them die in front of your eyes, knowing that you are powerless to stop their death from being transcribed in history…and afterward when they flounder to their demise, it’s already too late because nothing can stop the transition of death since it is purposeful in this universe—the one inevitable aspect that is beyond our system of control.

That shit changes you. For life, let me tell you.

By the time we killed Oryx, I had rushed over to Orion’s body. He was weak and practically dead; if it weren’t for the Light around my surviving team, he probably wouldn’t have been able to speak his last words.

I remember them. Every one. Like it was some baby speaking its first words. “Guys,” he had managed to say. “We did it.” He was coughing harshly, no doubt from the severe lack of energy. If we so much as backed up one step, he would’ve perished. “Don’t take me with you. Keep me here. It’s where I want to be. And Hunter…don’t feel bad. This is what brothers do for one another. We look out for each other. Now you have to do the rest by looking out for yourself.”

“Orion,” I said said between wretched sobs, squeezing his limp, dead hand with my own. If I had known any better, he didn’t feel me. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t hear me speak. He took his last breath and his form became cold and still, much like Oryx who was floating in the distance toward Saturn.

I should’ve been stronger to stand up on my own and make it to the aura, I tell you!

Now Orion is gone because of me.

As my hand caresses the tombstone once again, I felt a tear streak across my face under my helmet. Once that tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. I bent forward where I sat on the ground and pressed my palms against the stone, crying with the force of a person vomiting on all fours.

I was heaving for air by the time I was done.

Orion’s Ghost was still somewhat in tact, but it was dead. All its Light was drained as well; but its memories were still there and I could easily read them. I never did. I could never intrude on something so personal to a fellow Guardian, especially if they were close to me. Next to his gravestone was his favourite weapon, the Eyasluna Hand Cannon (the very same one he was using during our Raid) given to him for his victories in the Crucible.

When the sobs stopped and my body slackened from the hacking contractions of my breathing, I stood back up, paced around. Thought about what I should do. Read his Ghost or leave it.

No. I wasn’t going to read it. At least…not yet. I wasn’t ready to delve into the mystique that was his Ghost.

But how do I come to terms with this? Am I just going to conjecture this matter like it was nothing? I can’t redeem myself. Orion is dead, and I can’t tell him just how sorry I really am.

What do I do?

You can always forgive, but you can never forget the paramount things, at least.

I looked over the small underground chamber once more before curling up on the ground, my body close to the tombstone. I tried not to think about that dreaded day.

Ghost had popped back up. “Are you going to sleep here?”

“Yes.”

“You sure that’s a good idea? I mean what if—”

“It’s fine, Ghost. I’ll be okay. We have the Light, remember? Besides, I’d rather be here for the remainder of the day. Please, at least give me that much humility.”

“You got it. Just summon me if you need something.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

I figured that if I slept here tonight, that would give me enough time to possibly think or dream about what I should do. A visionary experience would do me some good; but I hardly had dreams to begin with and I doubt I’d have any out of pure coincidence.

Until then, I would preoccupy myself with my thoughts and dreams and wonders on what could be done for the sake of my sanity; a solution for me to come to terms with what I had failed to do.

Brining my cloak around, I wrapped it around me for some warmth, though my armour suit kept for warm as is.

Soon my world drifted off to the dreamscape that was my unconsciousness mind, and the last thing I could recall were my eyes shutting and darkness looming me.

More rested and clearheaded, I still didn't have a resolution for myself to the contrary. I had been here and nearly out for two Solar Days.

As I stirred awake, I gazed over at the gravesite before me for one last time, without any idea of what I should do to resolve my guilt. Perhaps this was all for nothing and I wasted everyone’s time (including my own) for coming here. Maybe the only way I can resolve this is by living with what I have done. Either that, or fight for Orion until the day I die myself. Doing both is always a viable option, right?

In retrospect, these things happen all the time. I can recall so many stories of fellow Guardians dying, and those who did survive were burdened by guilt and remorse for not doing what they should have done to salvage their comrades.

But nothing can be done now. Orion is gone.

You already know that though.

Yet, knowing that I had to move on with my life and come to terms with what I have done, which meant I wouldn’t be able to think of the moments Orion and I shared or else I would fall into my past, how could I move on without thinking about him after he had given me the sentiment of fervent kinship? It would mean that everything Orion and I had done together meant nothing.

I stood up onto my trembling legs and felt the searing burn in my legs, no doubt from awkwardly sitting and sleeping in a dark place. I stared at the etched stone that read the name and everything else. I didn’t sob this time, though; instead I smiled because I became brothers with a wonderful person. I wouldn’t done the same for him, now that I think about it.

“Hey, Ghost.”

Ghost appeared in front of me. “Yes?”

“Ready to go and get the Boomer sorted out?”

“Indeed. The coordinates are still on your map,” Ghost said.

But as I crouched to make an attempted leave, I looked back one last time and said, “Goodbye, little brother.”

The Founts were like prison or ritual site where all sorts of freaky Hive endorsements occur. Think of it as a place where experimentation goes down: Transformation of Thralls to Ogres through horrific mutations, only possible through the dark sorcery of a Wizard. Chain hooks suspended from the high ceilings, and there were dead carcasses hanging from then—their blood oozing drop by drop. They were bodies of long passed Guardians, a site that chilled me to the core. Curiosity caught unto me, making me wonder how their blood was still preserved after so many years, long before I was resurrected by the Light.

The usual green, ghostly atmosphere remained unwavering, and upon walking up to a wall, there were bars leading to the other side.

I was halfway across the upper walkways when Knights started firing their own Boomers in my general direction. One of the projectiles stuck me, causing me to stagger all over the place; my shields were lowered enough that I was near the point of having to be revived, so I sought nearby cover until my shields were regenerated. I felt very lucky there wasn’t an Ogres nearby, or perhaps there was and I was just being a dumb-ass about it. Ogres were nightmares when it came to fighting one: They were ginormous creatures, with a deformed, bubbly head and a big upper and lower body. They’d shoot a deadly blast of Void energy through their eye (encompassed in their head) and charge at you if enraged and slam the ground with a devastating quake attack.

But I was almost spent. As I peeked around the corner and looked below, an opening in the ground caught my contemplation. I could easily slip past these Knights with caution. Using a smoke bomb for invisibility, I leaped from cover, and found myself in the air, before landing and doing a front roll. The roll was sloppy. I stumbled my way down and it felt like I had pulled a muscle, but I kept prevailing.

Scouting my surroundings violently, the path was clear as daylight, so I got up and headed to where Ghost marked the coordinates on my map.

The pathway to whatever it was I sought wasn’t so bad. There were a few Thrall every now and then, but they were quickly dispatched with Lord of Wolves. The thing about Thralls were that, while not remotely strong like Ogres, they came in great volumes and would often overwhelm intruders. It’s like what I always say, never underestimate weaker enemies. (Shanks, cough, cough).

But if I’m being honest with you, the rest of the way to the device enhancer (yeah, let’s go with that) was largely uneventful, so I’ll skip ahead to the important part.

The enhancer was a a bit of a phenomenon to me—though since I did take an interest in the Hive until Oryx killed my brother, I had some level of knowledge of what to do. It was a simple affair, really. Put the weapon on top, secure it, and have Ghost do the rest.

Pulling out Ghost, I asked, “So can you do anything to it?”

“I’m not sure how Hive-technology works, but I can try.”

As Ghost went to work, I sat down on the floor, my Lord of Wolves stowed. Ghost was spinning around, and a cone of light analyzed the machine in front of us. My thoughts wandered to the gravesite from earlier that day lest I forget about everything I had said and promised to do, if there was even anything of the sorts. “Hey, Ghost,” I said.

“Yes?”

“Do you think…do you think Orion is in a better place now?” I asked, voice choking up a little.

Ghost had stopped what he was doing and floated its way to me. “Well, if you want my honest opinion…yes I do. He was a good, Guardian, Hunter. And friend. I believe he died happy. After all, he was there to help defeat Oryx. Wasn’t that his goal, after all?”

Tossing a rock in the air and catching it, I said, “I guess so. But it makes me wonder if I’ll ever see him again. You know?” I looked at my Ghost. “When I eventually die to whatever sucks the Light out of me.”

“Uh…right. How about we think of something more positive? I don’t like the idea of my Guardian being killed. Too scary to think about.”

“Do you remember what you said to me three years ago, when you found me in the jungles of Venus?” I said, my voice sounding more seriosu than normal. “Back when I was brought back to life after being dead for so long?”

“I do,” Ghost said, giving a slight nod.

“What was it that you said?”

“The Russian Proverb, ‘акула, которая не плавает, тонет, The shark that does not swim, drowns.’”

I looked gracefully at my companion. “Yeah. You said it meant we have to always move forward, no matter how hard things become. No matter what our past is, how painful it might be. I see it now. Orion is dead, but I can’t hold myself responsible anymore. He wouldn’t want me to. At least the Orion I know.”

“You remember everything I told you the first time we met?” Ghost said.

“It’s kind of hard not to when it’s the first thing to happen to you, assuming you’re completely cognitive.” I looked at the…aww man, there’s no night sky for me to look at while I give my heartwarming speech. Oh well. I suppose these swinging chains, suspended on the high ceiling, will have to suffice. “I want you to promise me something, Ghost. When it’s my time to die, let me go. Free me from my suffering. Free yourself and carry my memories and dreams to the next awesome Guardian you bind to. Can you do that for me?”

“You betcha! You are my Guardian after all. Now how about we get to work…or rather I get to work. It may be awhile.”

I had woken up about two hours later, according to the timestamp installed in my visor. The strange part was that I didn’t even realize I had passed out, and I was a little dumbfounded Ghost didn’t say anything to me. I’m even shocked I’m still alive and that nothing had come to kill me. What luck I had.

As I stirred around, legs out and hands behind my back, I glanced over to a still floating Ghost. “Whatcha got for me?”

“Well…I got it to work if that’s what you’re asking. Somehow the enhancer maximum it as the Warpriest’s Boomer and I could easily hack into it and trick the system to further enhance it, even though it was near its maximum capacity.”

“Uh…so it worked?” I asked standing up and walking over to my weapon. “Doesn’t look any different.”

“Well of course not. It’s only whatever’s inside the thing that changed. Why not give it a test drive?”

“I mean, I could, but—”

Something strange had happened when I picked up the now enhanced Boomer.

Everything became so fuzzy. All around me were thousands of strange blobs of indistinct colour, mixing and weaving and colliding every which way, all so bright, yet, simultaneously, seeming to be plunged in inscrutable darkness. It was intensely weird.

Ghost said he got it to work, so what was happening?

The daze was still going on strong. It usually faded after a few moments, but this time it seemed to have decided to take its sweet time. How long had it been yet? Why couldn’t I hear my Ghost or move on my own accord? I couldn’t guess this shit. I seemed to have lost all sense of time as I couldn’t feel my legs or the sand beneath my feet. Nothing to worry about, though, right? It was certainly nothing more than a temporary burst of energy, no doubt from the ascendant weapon that I yielded.

Oh well, I’d just have to wait it out a little longer perhaps. Maybe these enhancers made weapons too intense for the Light to hold, but I doubt that sentiment since, well, ascendency had a way to finding its way to me.

I kept watching the strange colours for a while, yet something felt increasingly wrong, though I couldn’t quite place my foot on it. I felt…drained. Like something was draining my Light…but what? It was a feeling akin to being tired and drifting off to sleep while within a dream; or something of that nature. And the colours were more and more jarring. They were all familiar, and while I could probably name them all, they still felt warped and somehow off. The fact that I couldn’t elect if they were blindingly bright, like the Sun, of unnaturally dark was one of my problems with them.

I wished this stupor would end soon; it was getting upsetting and nerve-racking, especially the sounds I could now hear: The shrieks of a thousand condemn souls being tortured ruthlessly and unmercifully, just for the sake of hearing them wallow in anguish.

And some sort of eccentric tugging sensation rattled me. What the ever living hell was that? It felt similar to the sort of exhaustion I would too often get from channeling my Light in overdrive to use my ultimate abilities more rapidly in times of desperation; but this was different, a stronger pull, feeling like a magnet. As if my Light was pouring out of me entirely.

Wait.

Leaking Light.

This wasn’t good.

No! I can’t afford to lose Light! You can keep the Boomer, I’d rather have my Light than a weapon! Mercy, mercy!

I tried to get it under control, to halt the flow, but it was extremely difficult. There seemed to be a barrier of sorts, an unusual power boarding the way to sealing my Light. The more I struggled, the more difficult it became, as if my very efforts were draining me. After what felt like eons, I decided to stay still.

I concentrated on silence and even Paledon to some degree. Ignored the freaky colours and horrifying sounds until they dwindled and their existence was nothing more than a faded memory. I pictured myself back on the Dreaded Dreadnaught, then the room where Ghost and I were attuning my weapon, then the gravesite, and all the events that transpired before this moment, the very one leaving me in disarray, until I could see the entire universe through the lens that was the drowning darkness. I plunged myself back into it all, with my focus unwavering and my mind set, letting myself sink into the bottom of myself in one great metaphysical dive. To let no recalcitrant impediment stand in my way from achieving freedom.

It was working! The colours began to fade, the sounds, everything I felt my Light stop leaking. I began to feel a hard surface beneath my body. There was still some resistance, however, but I prevailed nonetheless.

I found myself in the Basilica, back where my fireteam and I fought the Warpriest. How the hell did I end up here?

As I stood up on my feet, still wobbly from the uncanny experience, I noticed the three brown monoliths were still standing high up—Hive glyphs still engraved into them and their characters glowing every now and then.

The black Oversoul was still around and the portal was still indeed open, allowing me to transloacte myself to Golograth’s Cellular.

Ghost was hovering over my shoulder, looking at me. “This doesn’t look good. What happened back there? I thought I had lost you.”

“I’m not sure, but I think we may or may not have company,” I said with steadfast anxiousness. I was shuddering in all quarters of my body, and I could barely hold my weapon up without staggering.

“Say, Hunter. Incoming message from Paledon.”

Oh, Paledon! How he would calm my nerves to the ground and make me feel at ease. “Play it.”

“Hunter. We may or may not have found a clue that could eventually lead us to the whereabouts of SIVA. We can use your scouting expertise right about now. And…I miss ya. Hope to see you soon. Paledon out.”

“Set a course for home, Ghost,” I said, snapping my head to the crying sound in the distance. I slunk my way with invisibility, and I was stunned. How was that possible? The Warpriest was still standing, as if my fireteam and I hadn’t walked out victorious.

“Okay, that’s enough incentive,” Ghost said. “Transmitting you out, Hunter.”

I had a lot to tell Paledon when I got back.