You are proud, Guardian. Proud and arrogant and foolish as the Son you killed. Aiat, Aiat. You and I are similar in precious few respects. A worthy foe, to be sure. But in battle only. My plans lie far beyond your Krill lifetimes. I suppose you too know the thrill of the deathless, the loosening of the noose around your neck, if but for a moment. But the Noose still hangs, Guardian. Death is not yet beyond you. All it requires is a tight grip, and you are no more. But I am beyond the Noose and the Blade. My Worm is dead, my soul freed. And all thanks to you, blistering Light. I see you have crafted a new blade out of my Willbreaker. Consider it a token. A momento of the Taken King. The First Navigator. Yes, I have lost everything I worked for millennia to create. Yes, my Son is dead and my court decimated. Yes, my people are leaderless, my Taken clamor ing for the throne. But you do not know me, Guardian. My name means Long Thought, and I am the First Navigator. Such defeats are minimal in the end. Now I am Free. Free to search and to make war. Are you scared, Guardian? Does the shard of my blade sit heavier in your hand? Does the blood of my people stain your mind and devour your hopes? You follow the Logic and stay true to the Blade, yet fight for the Sky, that wretched miasma. Don't you see? Can't you see? No, I suppose not. You are too Proud, and too Blind. If you seek the Taken King out, look upon a Mirror. For Death is his kingdom, and You are his heir.