I crafted a shiv from the scraps of a hive cleaver, quite a way back as a younger less informed guardian. A simple whisper echoed in my head, just behind my thoughts at the time "This is revenge. Blood can only be repaid in blood." I remembered my old mentor, sitting on the side of the highway, bleeding from that ever so obvious final wound . I remembered the ghost that remained stoic in its shattered frame, watching as whatever dark munition ate every little scrap of quivering light from its first guardian. A mercinary, simply acting on pay, perched on a cliff above. I could smell the smirk on him as he stared at my now passing friend, the glare from the scope on his bitterly framed rifle glistening in its own darkness, seeming to bask in its success at stealing the life of another guardian. So, there i stood. Then, far above the fiend that slaughtered my mentor, his ghost skewered on my little dark shiv. Him, simply cowering before me, begging for his final death not to come...Its such a shame however that i was beginning to like the feeling of being the hunter, hovering over my ever so deserving prey. I suppose this is where i truly became what i am. I still whole heartedly believe in the power of the light, but my experiences in welding my first taste of the darknesses power revealed something to me. Both light and dark have their weaknesses, but both make up for eachothers more lacking qualities. Strength is understanding balance, and i am so much more than i would ever be if i kept simply to the path of "Guardian".