Gjallarhorn. Forged from the armor of Guardians who had fallen at the Battle of Twilight Gap. Tac-2 examined the marks etched into the side of her own: Iteration Number 61. Which meant that the weapon she now held in her hands was fashioned from the selfsame armor she had been wearing that day. She wasn’t sure how her Ghost managed it, but he had tracked down the weapon himself and given to her as a gift. “A symbol of your new resolve.” That’s what he had said. What was that supposed to mean? As if sensing the tenor of her thoughts, Lumen materialized next to her shoulder. “Are you alright?” His smooth, somewhat deep voice was comforting, despite the Ghost’s clipped tone. “I’m fine. Thinking about the Gap.” “You’re thinking about the weapon. You may have died there, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.” “It was meant for the survivors!” “One of which you now are.” “Not one of the original survivors.” “No. That will not change. But you can fight for those who did not rise again. And what better weapon than one that marks your death and return to life? The Darkness should fear such a force.” She didn’t respond. “Tac?” More silence. Lumen made a sound like a sigh, then moved to hover in front of his Guardian’s face. The white shell, contrasted by a twin pair of red stripes down the center, was punctuated by high ‘cheekbones’ and bright white optics. A white light flickered in her mouth, as if she were about to say something, then went dark. “I’ll consider it.” She turned away from the Ghost to gaze out over the City, and he found himself examining one of the red, ear-like antennae that swept upward from the sides of her head. “Thank you.” Lumen vanished as he transmatte, reuniting himself with Tac’s Light. He wasn’t entirely satisfied with her answer, but he knew better than to press the issue further. He would leave her to think about his words. But before either of them could dismiss the conversation from their minds, a deep, strong voice punctuated the air. “You seem troubled, Guardian.” Tac turned to see who her visitor was, and immediately scrambled to her feet. She snapped to attention. “Commander Zavala! I simply-.” “No need to explain. I was on my way to the hangar when I heard your conversation from around the corner.” He clapped a hand on Tac’s shoulder. “Relax! You may be new to your role as Guardian, Tactician, but you are not new to your role as a defender of the City. I consider you an equal in experience, if not in rank.” Tac allowed herself to relax, though not completely. “So, what exactly is bothering you?” “You know that I was one of those who fell at the Gap.” Zavala remained silent, encouraging her to continue. “My Ghost somehow found the Gjallarhorn that was forged from my armor, and gave it to me. I guess he thought I deserve it, but I’m not sure.” Zavala didn’t immediately answer. He extended his left hand, palm-up, and summoned his own Ghost, which hovered upward and adopted a position near his shoulder. “I saw a lot of Guardians fall at the Gap, and they aren’t coming back. I was lucky enough to survive, but if I had been killed out there, I’d want someone fighting for me.” He paused, as if searching for the words he wanted. Finally, he continued. “You are a Guardian, a totem of Light created by the Traveler through your Ghost. While you may not believe that this makes you worthy, it does. But if you need more convincing, I can tell you this: not all who fought survived, and not all who fell were reforged, as you were. You have a chance to bring peace to those who can no longer resist the Darkness.” Zavala turned to leave, then paused. “Think on it, Guardian.” And then he was gone. Tac sat down again, her back braced against the Tower wall as she once again gazed out over the City. She suddenly found herself thinking of a pre-Golden Age saying she’d once heard from Master Rahool: “Live to fight another day.” After hearing what Zavala had said, she wondered if she should be following that advice. She wasn’t bitter about having been revived. On the contrary, she was happy for another chance to drive back the Darkness. Yet she couldn’t shake the sense of guilt she felt for her friends every time she thought of the Gjallarhorn she held. It wasn’t until she considered the full meaning of Zavala’s words that she understood what he and Lumen had been trying to tell her. Those who had fallen, never to rise again, could still be wandering the Wilderness in search of peace. Had she wandered, before Lumen found her? Did Exo even have souls, or spirits, or whatever qualified for a consciousness outside of physical existence? At the thought, a vestige of a memory flickered in the back of her mind. She couldn’t make out what it was, and yet it was all the clarification she needed. “Lumen.” The Ghost materialized again. “Contact Holliday and have her prep the Javelin.” **** [b]Just something I wrote back in January. Got my first Gjallarhorn and immediately checked out the lore. I hate that such a beautiful weapon has been retired, but it still holds a lot of meaning for me, and my character.[/b]