TYPE: Perspective: Malphor Shin DESCRIPTION: Days preceding Jaren’s death We have been tracking him for three days. I can tell from the foot prints that it is a he, the impressions size, and way he landed heel first and dug it in deep. The trail leads straight, as if leading us in a direction. Makes sense. The guy came and took a dump in our backyard, said he wanted Jaren, and then took off. He is leading us up to the range, I guess that makes this a trap. Fine by me. I don’t think Jaren feels the same way. Ever since we started tracking these steps he has been uneasy, I don’t think he likes taking all of us with him. But what choice do we have? The Fallen are swarming in the valley behind us and between us and the City, the south is a cold wasteland, and we never head east, too many Fallen Devils. Only way was north. But Jaren was a bit different. I can’t quite put my finger to it. He wasn’t fearful…maybe it was concern. I don’t really know, I’ve spent so much time with him, he has been like a father to me, yet his deeper personality is still a mystery even to me. I’d guess only his Ghost has a better feel for him though, but that little cube never spoke to me. What came next probably explained what happened in the end. TYPE: Perspective: Jaren Ward DESCRIPTION: Days preceding Jaren’s death The tracks die here at a massive rock formation. He must have started using blink with some strategic landings, there is no trail to follow. Not ideal. Jaren – Ok, the tracks die here. Shin – I know this area. There are two trails north, each go around the rock and meet up again. Jaren – About how far back until they meet back up? Shin – About a half mile. Kelly – We should split up, right Jaren? No sense we all travel together to search both trails. Jaren – I don’t like splitting up, but it is probably the best course forward. Ok, we split into two fire teams. On one side will be myself, Shin, Frank and the two ladies, Nada and Kelly. The other will be Brevin, Kressler, Trenn and Mel. You boys will take the long rifles with you. If anything starts up you hunker down and wait for me to get there. Shin walked over with a worried look on his face. Shin – You sure you don’t want me to go with them? Seems like each time should have one of the best guns. Jaren – Seems that way. But I know you, if bullets start flying you are gonna fight back. I don’t want that. I gotta keep my eye on you. We move as I stated. The two teams split up and started their walk. Jaren – Ghost, track our progress, let me know when we are a quarter mile in. Hopefully Shin is right about it only being a half-mile. Jaren didn’t like splitting up, but he knew it was likely what this guardian wanted. Now it was luck of the draw, had Jaren picked the side that was going to be ambushed, or not. Jaren’s Ghost – Approaching the quarter mile mar… Crack…crack…crack…crack… The gunfire started at once…on the other side of the rock formation. Damn. Jaren – SHIN, stay with Frank and the girls, keep them safe. Shin – I can come with you… Jaren was already gone, sprinting faster than Shin had ever seen. A quarter mile to the end, a quarter mile back to the boys, could take a full 2 minutes. A lifetime. As Jaren rounded the rock the gunfire had ceased. Either they can hit their mark, scared him off, or they were all dead. A minute later Jaren had his answer. Kressler laid there with Brevin, Trenn and Mel next to him. He was still panting, white as a ghost, but covered in blood. The other three boys were dead. None of them were even 20 years old. Jaren – Did you seen him? Where did he go? Kressler stared forward, looking through Jaren. He was holding his rifle like it was a teddy bear. Jaren recognized he was in shock, but he didn’t have time for that. He slapped Kressler across the face to snap him out of it. Jaren – DID YOU SEE HIM? WHERE’S HE GONE? Kressler – I…I…I never saw…anything. Bullets just started landing, Frank got off a couple shots, but I don’t think he hit anything. The gun was so quiet…I don’t think any of us knew where it was coming from. Jaren looked to his back, the boys had been ambushed from a rock cropping to their west. The formation gave a good egress from the top, there never saw it coming, and the guardians slipped away to the North while Jaren was running in from the North. Jaren – Alright, we gotta go. No tellin how far those shots echoed, we can’t wait around for the Fallen to get here. Kressler – And…them? Jaren – We can’t do nothing for them now. TYPE: Journal Entry: Malphor Shin DESCRIPTION: The night of Jaren’s death It was the fourth night of the seventh moon. Nine rises since any sign. Trail wasn't cold, but lukewarm would've been an exaggeration. Jaren had us hold by a ravine. The heavy wood along the cliffs' edge caught the wind, holding back the cold and the rush of water muffled our conversation. We'd seen dual Skiffs hanging low as they cut through the valley. Wasn't known Fallen territory, but anymore that's a dangerous assumption. There were six of us then. Three less than two moons prior, but still, one more than when we'd first turned our backs to Palamon's ash. We took a rotation for watch during the night. Movement was kept to a minimum and communication was down to hand signals and simple gestures. We could hold our own in a fight, but only the dead went looking for one—a hard truth that cut in direct opposition to our reasons for being so far from anything resembling civilization, much less our safety. The Skiffs had spooked Kressler and Nada, and, in truth, me as well. But, looking back, I think we were all just grasping for any good reason to turn back. Not because we would—turn back—but because it seemed to be our only real hope, and I think we all knew it. Forward. Where we were headed—into the unknown. And following the footsteps we were. It all just started to feel like a never-ending dead end after a while. Jaren never wavered though. Not once. At least not to any noticeable degree. It was his drive, his conviction, that kept us going. And—it's hard to think on—but if I'm honest, it was his death that rekindled my own fire. A fire that was all but exhausted on that cold night. He seemed confident we were close. But more than confident—sure. He seemed sure. No one else felt it—our own confidence, and any enthusiasm we'd had was set to wither soon as Brevin, Trenn and Mel were gunned down. The Ghost—Jaren's Ghost—never said a word to any of us. Just hung there. Always alert. Always judging. Not us, per se, but the moment. Any moment. I never got the sense it thought of us as lesser. More that it was guarded, wary. We knew it could speak. We'd overheard them a few times. Just brief words, and no one ever pressed the subject. From time to time I caught its gaze lingering on me, but always assumed the attention was a result of the bond Jaren and I had. He was a father to me. At the time I didn't know why he'd singled me out as someone to care for. Someone to protect. After all the loss, I welcomed it, but looking back—taking in the arm's length at which he kept the others—I guess I should've known, or at least suspected there was more to it. We all woke that night, closer to morning than the previous day. A crack of gunfire split through the wood. Then more. Far off, but near enough to pump the blood. A familiar ring. "Last Word." Jaren's sidearm. His best friend. Then another. A single shot, an unmistakable echo calling through the night. Hushed, cutting. One shot, dark and infernal. Followed by silence. We crouched low and quiet. Listening. Hoping. Jaren was gone. Off on his own. Maybe we were closer than we'd allowed ourselves to believe. Too close. He'd gone to face death alone. I couldn't admit it—not at the time—but he thought he was protecting us. After such a long road—years on its heels, a trail littered with suffering and fire—maybe he just couldn't take the thought of anymore dead "kids," as he called us. The echoes faded and we all held still. No way to track the direction. No sense in rushing blind. What was done was done. The cadence of the shots fired told a story none of us cared to hear. "Last Word" it hadn't been. And somewhere in the world, close enough for us to bear absent witness but far enough to be a dream, Jaren Ward lay dead or dying. And there was nothing to be done. Hours passed. An eternity. We held our spot, but as the sun rose the others began to fade back into the world. Without Jaren there was nothing holding us together. No driving force. Vengeance had grown stale as a motivator. Fear and a longing to see more suns rise drove a wedge between duty and desire. By midday I was alone. I couldn't leave. Wouldn't. Either I would find Jaren and set him at ease, or the other would find me and that would be a fitting end. Death marching on. But then, a motion. Quick and darting. My muscles tensed and my hand shot to the grip of my leadslinger. Then a confirmation of the horrible truth I had already accepted, as Jaren's Ghost came to a halt a few paces in front of me. I exhaled and slumped forward. Still standing, but broken. The tiny Light looked me over with a curious tilt to its axis, then shot a beam of light over my body. Scanning me as it had done the very first time we met. I looked up. Staring into its singular glowing eye…and it spoke... [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/106891427/0/0]Link to Chapters[/url]