Table of Contents: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/244705039?page=0&sort=0&showBanned=0&path=1
[b]Chapter 6, Part 1[/b]
As the last streaks of sunlight disappeared from the horizon, and the moon rose in its slow arc, a pale figure stood atop a barren hill and gazed across the tundra. The night grew cold, but the air was dry, so this ultimately meant little. After all, it was always cold here. Cold, and indifferent.
Ikoris had made the decision to set their rendezvous here for one reason, and one reason only: it had this hill. Though this sector only recently came into his possession, Ikoris had stood upon this spot many times. Not that Garamont had ever learned of his frequent intrusions, of course-they had nothing to do with the late Warlord. Ikoris had never made any serious attempt to conquer this land; he was simply passing through. His destination was much more distant, for it lay at the heart of the Wolves' domain. In fact, it *was* the heart of their domain. It was the Traveler. It was his Creator. It was his Mother.
On each of his previous trips, Ikoris had ventured to the valley in which his Mother lay, but had gone no further than to stand upon the mountain peaks. He had not sought conflict-that, he knew, would come in time. No, he came to admire. The sight of Her always drew Ikoris to a state of reverence, of wonder, and-eventually-of despair. He was a loving child, and, when circumstances permitted, even a loving brother to his siblings...but he was bitter.
He had tried to reason with his kin. He had tried to negotiate. He had even come close to pleading, but something had snapped within him before that could occur, and he had come to the realization that would shape his fate. [i]They[/i] did not wish Her to be healed. [i]They[/i] did not wish to liberate Her, or to repay Her for the favor of their existence. They did not even [i]trust[/i] Her. They chose to leave their Mother as She was: broken, dying, chained...because they were afraid. They were afraid that She would leave and, in doing so, would relieve them of their power and purpose. They thought Her destiny to be of lesser import than their own.
They were wrong.
For centuries, this belief had held firm within Ikoris' mind, unperturbed by the Wolves' own pleadings and attempts at reason. And attempts were all that they could muster, for-in truth-they were wholly incapable of reason: their perspectives were inherently flawed. Of this, Ikoris was sure. To see this, one need look only to their past conflicts-his a trail of unmarred triumph, and theirs a road of failure. Of course, Ikoris himself needn't even search so far as that for reassurance. He need only ask, and await the inevitable response. It was not a reply of words or even of thoughts, but rather a vision of his future...that is to say, it was a vision of victory.
Fate, it seemed, was no longer on his side. Fate had [i]denied[/i] him. And so, he would ask again...and he would wait.
Ikoris gazed across the lands that surrounded him, his eyes scanning over an army of thousands, and their eyes staring back. These were his people. [i]This was his empire[/i]...and, should the course of fate hold steady, it would soon fall.
Ikoris closed his eyes, reveling in the sounds of life about him. Then, his face relaxed and his mind calmed, he took a breath and held it. A blade sang against its scabbard, quieting the crowd. Thousands watched as the Awoken's corpse fell to the ground. The people stared in horror. The Chosen watched in interest, however slight. The animals paused seemingly without reason. The wind was silent. The fires dimmed.
All was still.
[i]Tips, criticism, questions, etcetera are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading my work.[/i]
Link to Chapter 6, Part 2: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/247931757?page=0&sort=0&showBanned=0&path=1