In the darkness there was a faint light. Multiple rays shone from the wall above, an unrecognizable pattern of different unnatural colors. Ralis looked up at the glass from where he sat in the room and starred in silence. It was beautiful before he thought, but now with the rays of moonlight showering the decorative mural glass, it was marvelous. He thought he should remember what it was depicting. After the Ghost had brought him back, Ralis found holes in his memory. It was as if random moments or details had been torn from mind. He could remember the thoughts around the holes, but knew something was missing. For instance, he couldn’t even remember his names of his parents. Their actions and faces he could recall, yet if he had to wager his own life on their names, he’d lose. It was an alarming realization. As Ralis gazed into the stained glass to try and remember what figure it was depicting, memories surrounding that lost knowledge came. The building he had hidden in was a church, one that predated the Golden Age. Members would gather once a week and worship at this spot, and fashioned works like the glass murals to symbolize the beauty and wonder of their God. He presumed that all likely changed with the arrival of the Traveler. Yet the simple glass mesmerized him, the first beautiful thing he’d seen in a long time. How it had survived intact for so long was beyond him. Ralis huddled against a wall, shaking even though it wasn’t cold. This newfound reality bit more than any winter weather could. Everyone he knew was dead, he had died, and nightmares were looking for him. He shivered all the more at that thought. Fallen ships had been searching overhead in the dark, likely on alert from finding the dead patrol. It wasn’t a heavy search judging by the feel of things. Sleep still wouldn’t come easy tonight. He was surprised that the Ghost hadn’t said anything for a long time now. It had occasionally chimed in with inputs on his location and directions while he was struggling to flee, but remained much quieter than it initially had. Ralis didn’t mind, the odd thing had been frustratingly judgmental. There was a strange pulsing hum from outside as a Fallen ship floated by. He held his breath until the craft passed, sighing slowly when the hum was distant and the red indicator on his tracker vanished. “I’m sorry,” the Ghost suddenly said inside the armor. Ralis sat still in silence for a few moments. “For what?” He asked. “What I said before. It sounded harsher than I meant and I fear I’ve upset you.” He chuckled softly, “Upset? I guess that’s a good way to phrase it. I myself feel like an unstable and rather worthless piece of-” “Stop,” the Ghost interjected. “Just stop and listen. I’m sorry, but you have to understand. Do you know how long I’ve been searching for you? I’ve seen countless Ghosts find their Guardians, seen what they did together. After a while when the City was made I would get signals from their towers, updates of what was going on, what Guardians and humanity were doing when I was close. I kept looking, never talking to anyone but myself. I’ve had one goal all this time. To find someone like you. Now with that in mind, imagine conducting that search for a century. Now two. Then add some change. It might have been wrong of me, but it is possible that maybe I had high expectations after such a long search.” “That long? You were searching before I was born.” The machine made a few noises inside his system. “Yes, and I found no one before to choose. Maybe if I had found you alive I could have still chosen you. I honestly don’t know much about the Traveler or what I even am. I just know I needed to find a Guardian.” “Why? What good can I do?” Ralis asked, lowering his head into his hands. “Wield it’s Light. Fight the Darkness. Save others in need and restore the Traveler.” He shook his head to himself, “I can’t possible do any of that. I don’t know how.” “Yes, you can.” The Ghost stated passionately, “I don’t know how it’ll be done, but it’ll be done by Guardians like you. We’ll all figure it out, one step at a time.” Ralis found it hard to believe. A small part of him wanted to believe this a dream but the rest of himself knew better. He said nothing in response to the Ghost and continued to hold his head in silent turmoil. Minutes of silence passed under the dim rays of colored light before the Ghost spoke again. “Ral, that data pad you found? I’m going to transmat it out. I’ll upload some of my data I’ve stored for you read.” He looked up to see something slowly glisten into existence and held his hands out to catch the pad. The device was already on and began flickering as data was transferred over. Before Ralis could even protest, a transcript appeared with an audio file and began to play inside of his helmet. [i][b]From Lord Saladin's induction speech[/b][/i] [i]"Nothing born is born strong. I know I began weak, the same as you. I don't care if you're an Exo, staring at that number and wondering where you've come from. Or a Human hungry to understand the ancient world that left you for dead. Or an Awoken reborn in the very essence of what your people hide from. Together, we're the pointed end of a long stick of happenstance. Change one ripple in an ancient ocean and we would never have been granted the Light within us, or the good Ghosts that want to help us. Humble origins. Every world begins as a big pebble lost among trillions of pebbles. Every worthy sun was once cold hydrogen spread thin across the vacuum. Even the universe, this cosmic garden that surrounds us and awes us...this monument to Creation was once the size of an apple seed. And everything that's splendid and great stands at the end of incalculable chance and mayhem. Yes, you have talents. Enormous, wondrous powers. But you should put the smirk away. Do you know what a Guardian is? Not yet. Your name is another pebble. You are a cold apple seed. But you will grow."[/i] Ralis contemplated this strangers words for a moment. His voice was gruff but his words had been moving. “Who is that?” “A Titan,” the Ghost answered, “Lord Saladin Forge of the Iron Lords, Commander of the Vanguard. Feel free to browse the files, learn of the City and its Guardians.” He drank in the knowledge eagerly. It felt as if he was reading the old tomes his clan had once salvaged, only this he could remember fully. Events and names appeared in reports and he jumped between things that were interesting. It wasn’t as extensive as what he hoped for, but it was something. An interesting blurb about titans caught his eye: [i]"Stand. Not only to fight, but to strive. For honor. For hope. We bleed, we die, we defend."[/i] From there another excerpt drew his attention at the mention of Titans: [i]“[b]Before These Walls[/b] Rezyl Azzir was a man. In time his kind would be called Titan. Mountains of muscle and might and metal. His collar was fur and teeth. His person clad in ornate, golden-etched plating, trophies upon his shoulders. This was before the City was The City. This is before the walls. Still in the shadow of the fragile giant above, but before. Salvation seekers came — survivors; weary remnants of a people on the brink. These were the days before reason took hold. Before study was merged with belief. The giant was looked to as one would a God. Maybe it still is. Factions grew from the huddled masses. Like minds coming together to provide support, comfort. Over time these loyalties demanded loyalty. Differences that used to inform — viewpoints that when joined granted a larger understanding of the whole — became points of conflict. The sanctuary became divided. The shadow of Light grew darker. This, humanity’s last oasis, slowly fading to a mirage. Great, powerful men and women, The Risen, stood at the Factions’ sides. Protection. Enforcers. Misused possibility. Misery crept into this false paradise. Yet hope lingered. Seeing the cracks in this society born beneath the giant’s fractured shell, some among The Risen challenged the dissolution of all that could be. They would no longer serve as instruments of oppression. They would be more. Thus began an unnecessary war made necessary by greed, ambition... fear. And, in the chaos of this struggle, came the scavengers — aliens with appetites. A common enemy. In the end, the scavengers were repelled and the Factions fell, their grip broken, though their beliefs remained. This was the earliest days of the Guardians, when might found purpose. Prosperity was in reach. Rezyl had been a champion of these wars. A leader. Against the alien pirates he had been more. If the giant wasn’t a God, then maybe Rezyl was. As the first walls formed — built of hard work and sacrifice — Rezyl and the Guardians stood against the alien plunderers time and again. More survivors arrived. More warriors. The Guardian ranks swelled. The City grew. Hope blossomed. To Rezyl it was a currency. Hope bought tomorrow. Tomorrow bought the effort needed to survive today. Yet Rezyl grew weary. Stories haunted his nights. Old stories. Those no longer told. Those locked behind tight lips for fear of what they may invoke. Whenever the sun dropped below the horizon and the moon rose high, Rezyl’s thoughts wandered. How safe was safe? How long could they fight with the Darkness still writhing? So, every day Rezyl would fight and build and protect. And every day a city grew beneath the giant. And every night he would think about all that was never said and stare intently at the moon above.”[/i] (([b]Next Part:[/b] https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/194763275/0/0 )) (( [b]Table of Contents-[/b] https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/193252449/0/0 ))