16 times we ran. Each time a cataclysmic malfunction had occurred. Whether it be overwhelming reinforcements, frustration, or careless mistakes, I regretfully say the black spindle is not mine. After hours upon hours of humiliating struggle and defeat, my fellow guardians could not find the light within them to push further. Now the exotic sniper that once held such attraction to our hearts leaves a burden within our vaults for one spot will never be adequately filled. This is a time for mourning as the sun brings forth a new day and the black spindle creeps out of reach; back into the darkness where our effort lies in waste. This is truly the first time the Taken have taken from me.