((So, this was an idea of mine [not entirely original as others have their own retellings of the main story] to tell the journey of a Titan through the main story but with far more fluff and hopefully decent detail. It's meant to start a little vague and I apologize for any errors. It's a little late and the muse was just there so ... yeah, dig through the word vomit if you can. : 3 )) [b]Chapter 1: Ignite the Flame[/b] "I think you've had enough, Guardian." Stranger words were never said by a Ghost. There were days, in the beginning, where my Ghost was more frequently used as an alarm or a conscience, days where my rebirth felt more like a curse than a gift, a second chance. I remember one night, the night things started to change, perfectly. He floated before me, each blink of mine bringing him in and out of focus. I fought to steady both my mind and vision. The metal behind me was cool, so I leaned my head back for comfort and looked forward. Each blink was a shot fired until my vision was clear. I looked past the Ghost. The Traveler remained transfixed in its stasis, its presence more dependable than the sun and moon; it never went away. Guardians were pulling into the hangars and venturing the tower, fulfilling tasks I, too, should have been doing. In fact, my Ghost had mentioned something about a NLS Drive days—or was it weeks—prior. "You should not be doing this, Guardian. When I said to continue when we were ready I meant within a few days." "And I said public drinking would be okay as a Guardian. Suppose I won the bet." "That's not entirely true. Nor the point. And when did we bet?" Ghosts could be so incredibly dry as if born from a desert not light. I thank my fellow Guardians for that fact. A smile formed on my face. He found a way to manage a convincing glare, one eye and all. "Not sure." "You know, we really should be moving." For awhile, I wondered if I embarrassed my Ghost. People walked by mumbling their cynical observations under their breaths. I didn't blame them, but nor did I feel in the wrong. I would move before I caused trouble anyway. I shook my head. "It still makes no sense." I knew he understood what I was bringing up again by the way he whirled around in a circle, his form emulating a lowered brow the whole time. "Neither does your fixation with that substance." He looked at the four bottles in what I presumed to be disgust. It was odd, really, but they were one of the few things reminiscent of an older time available to us in the Tower--the only place a Guardian was allowed. How I knew that, I'm not sure, but what I did know was barring us off from the city only alienated my will. "Oh? Act like I'm filling myself with Darkness." I stumbled, almost falling back against the wall, but managed to stand. "Besides, maybe that substance explains how I ended up in Russia." My Ghost floated backward. I like to think he had the surprised look of a civilian who had just seen a beloved Guardian return home after a long hiatus. The shock, the confusion ... minus the joy. "Well, I—does this mean your memories are back?" "No," I said. I leaned down to pick up one of the bottles by the neck, wrapping my two fingers around it, choking the bottle as I forced out every last drop. "But why else would I have died in such a horrible place?" "I don't have the answers to that." "I know you don't." I wanted the words to cut. I looked skyward toward the Traveler. Guardians and merchants wanting to outfit those destined for their second deaths walked by. Ships landed and left the tower plaza, a home to many, merely a pit stop for the wayfaring soldier. I stepped toward the railing and ignored the roars of new ships arriving, their machine-made breeze adding to the already chill air. Beneath me was a city I wanted to know. It was full of lights of its own, lights that would die every night only to be awoken the next day as people went about their lives within The Last City. I clenched the railing and shifted my gaze toward the Traveler. It had been two weeks since I was chosen. They days were not easier and the nights only faded with the bitter warmth of alcohol. I could hear my Ghost hovering behind me. "I didn't ask for this. You chose wrong." "No. Not yet." I faced the magical orb. Its light was strong, and so too was its will. There were many things I could not understand how I knew or why they knew them. Weaponry came natural. Guns and wielding the light were as easy as flexing a muscle. In the blink of an eye, I had killed fifty-eight fallen—my first day as a Guardian. Forget crawling, I would kill running. Going through the motions of life should not bring death, yet as this assemblage of magic, machine and life gave me new breath, I stole many breaths without knowing the cause. It was because I was chosen, like the many corpses around me, we were chosen. You could give us flesh, force the light back in our eyes, but deep down, we had our own darkness in us. No light could give us our memories. "I will never understand ... and I'm not sure I want to." "You're not supposed to," Ghost said. I didn't like its tone or the implications behind its words. "You're not fighting for yourself or me, but for all that you see before you." He floated higher. I could imagine what he would do provided he had a full body. He would raise his arms out as he continued, "This tower, man, exo, and awoken alike, the city below us; they all exist because of Guardians." He rotated toward me, the blue light that made his eye rotating with thought as a faint transparent essence permeated around his being. It was calming. "I cannot promise you the answers you want or how long we will be successful. Many Guardians and Ghosts have fallen. Many people have fallen. Your second chance is to make sure there are those that can have their first. Not every Guardian accepts their fate and the gift of Light. That is yours alone to decide." I lowered my head in contemplation. He was good. Natural speaker, as if magically programmed to have a perfect answer, one that would await the appropriate concerns before being voiced. I decided to surprise him, ask him a question I had mulled over privately since the day he brought me to the Tower. "Why did we need to kill those Fallen?" "They shot first." "Did they?" I faced Ghost, leaning against the railing now. "Well—" "I remember you told me to grab the gun." "—of course, but that doesn't mean—" "Then what does it mean? I appreciate your efforts. You're inspirational, Ghost, but it doesn't make sense. I was up, and in that moment, a weapon. Other than that, I know nothing about me nor does anyone seem to have a decisive answer around here." "How so?" "There's too little information, and not many are willing to elaborate." "You think I'm hiding things?" "No, and if you are, you're probably not aware. But someone is." We lived inside a war machine, forever a part of it, a cog by birth not by choice. When the city below slept our gears still turned. Ghost made it feel like we had a choice, and perhaps the stories of rogue Guardians did too, but reality told us differently. We were bred for battle. Warlocks, hunters, and titans alike came and went with such ease and it was a facade. For good cause or not, answers were needed as to what exactly we were doing; it said something when our Ghosts, those blessed by the Traveler to give us life, held very little information. It was as if their blaze of power was intentionally limited, a flame cursed to burn in the confines of a glassy cell. They were lanterns with unsure keepers. Those hardened to these facts served as our mentors and leaders in the Tower but for whatever reasons it was not enough for me. "Guardian, I apologize, I do." "It's fine. My head's killing me, but hey, might have a bullet in there in a few hours anyway, right?" I chuckled but my Ghost did not return the gesture. I suppose it was time to cut the thing slack. The search for truth, along with the Ghost's words, had my mind thinking. Maybe it was because it was at least the tenth time we had this discussion; different words, different days. "Listen. You said if I get an NLS Drive we can go further, right?" "Yes. Beyond Earth. Why?" "If I join this war, this crusade on the Darkness, where will we go?" "Where you're needed. I will guide you. I will not ask for your trust." "I will give it, but if I choose to go further, to search for information?" "You sound like a warlock, titan. But, I suppose there's nothing wrong with that. Where do you intend on going?" I smiled. "Anywhere I need to. I'll help out around the tower, yeah, but when we have the chance, I'm going to take my own routes, figure out if there's something they're all missing." "Quite noble." "Part of it is for them, most of it's for me. " I stepped away from the railing and began to head toward my barracks. "Don't get too excited." "There's the charm," Ghost said, sarcasm dripping from his words. He floated there for a few moments before letting out an exhaustive sigh and followed in tow. "But perhaps you should sober first."