[1761 words] [Original prompt list can be seen here.]
The festivities were raucous and jubilant. Despite the celebration, the Traveler hung dormant above them, and Fallen forces still skittered rampant in the wilds. And yet as her parade robes fluttered behind her, brothers and sisters flanking her at either side, she couldn’t bring herself to think of anything but the smiling faces beaming forth from behind the colorful bunting.
The sounds of the cannons and fire were still shrieking in her ears when she was brought to by the familiar light of her ghost. The lightless lay broken in scattered heaps by her feet, and the moment she looked to the sky, the red glow reflecting in the shielded glass of her helmet, she knew there was hell to come.
Nothing. There was nothing. There should have been more, something, but there was nothing. Her fingers clamped, numb and clumsy, around the shell of her dark ghost. It took everything in her to lift her head and meet the eyes of the great and twisted thing, and it took everything else to keep her sanity when she watched the red-and-white shape glint as it fell.
Her feet felt like wooden stakes in flame, her torso like the dying breath of a bee that had stung its last. Her vision was only functional by aid of the sweeping searchlights glaring down from where the creatures marched, and her robes felt as a vice did around one’s neck. None of it compared to the way she felt something inside her break when she laid sight upon the shivering, sparking little light that flickered at her from beneath the crumbling bridge.
The strength in her limbs felt like lead as she hiked up and over the last chunk of rubble separating her from the green outside the wall. Her ghost said nothing from where it was cradled against her heart, but she felt his misery well, and the hollow in the center of her chest yawned only wider as she turned her back on The Last City.
New terrain was a common obstacle. Never before had she been so aware of the dangers posed by the land alone. As was the new and painful trend, her wariness of the land was drowned out by the sick, roiling terror that hit her stomach as she turned to see the plumes of smoke billowing from beneath the chained Traveler.
The stars were nothing new to her. She’d been flying among them for years, watching them for longer. They were a welcome sight in the loneliness of the snow and the rocks, twinkling like the sparks of the fire she lay curled up by. Dreams of what she knew lay beyond haunted her conscious, and they danced across the black whenever she closed her eyes.
The heat of Suraya’s grip as she hauled her upright was ample and real. Her breath was rattling against her ribs as she listened to Suraya’s speech through the vision of the Shard blazoned into her eyelids, and even after the woman had walked away she was choking with the effort of swallowing her tears. Her grip tightened around her ghost, and for the first time in seven days, she felt heat coursing through her fingertips.
Despite its humble appearance, the Farm was bustling with life and warmth, and the longer she looked the deeper she felt the ache that sank deep into the foundations of her being. Still, it was hard to feel the extent of her despair when she was surrounded by a thriving society. And now, she had a goal to turn to.
She could tell by the look in Suraya’s eyes that she truly believed she had some twisted sort of a sense of humor. The idea itself was nearly enough to incur a quirk of the mouth; she hadn’t smiled in eight days, let alone produced anything resembling humor. No, she had a directive, a whisper to follow, and she was going to find the Shard.
There was an odd quality of surrealism to battle now that she could very well breathe her last. She was careful to keep her ghost hidden and her senses sharp. But a guardian was made of more than pure gift, and she felled her foes with her usual ease. It was a small comfort.
Where before there was nothing, there now was something. Where once the violet void had been ripped from her being, she now was flooded with fire, with hot, with passion. Her cries of jubilee matched harmoniously with those of her ghost as the flames blazed about her body with a life so bright, so burning, and it was with unbelievable emotion that she set the world around her ablaze.
Suraya’s tone was hard as the call repeated, cutting through static across the radio waves. Her commander’s voice was tired, but powerful, and her promise to return was with the same note of grit. The woman considered her wearily, and with no small note of unhappiness, but the trust in her eyes spoke enough.
The hope she’d felt was dimmed by the Commander’s voice as he told her of their losses. As of yet, she was the only lit candle, and the despair shone easily in his eyes. She was the only expendable asset; she was the only one who could die. Her hope was herself. It was an odd title to bear, but she squared her shoulders, and tightened the straps of her ammo belt.
When she first touched down on the vibrant planetoid, her immediate thought was, strangely, of relief. As alarming as it may have been that the Vex had converted this world so easily, so completely, it was still refreshing to see red that wasn’t fire and green that wasn’t emergency lighting. Yes, she decided, she liked Nessus immensely.
Foolishness wasn’t quite the word for it, but it was the first word to come to mind as she watched him babble about teleporters and Vex and Ghaul. His determination, at least, was admirable, and while he’d technically deserted his duties to chase an idea, it had been a rather ingenious one. She brushed it all to the side in favor of letting his arms snake around her shoulders, the relief strong in both of them.
Her figure was sharp in the sunlight of Io’s day. The violet-purple robes were shifting slightly in the mild breeze, and the same touch caressed her face as she listened to her pain. This place, she told her, this place was her haven. Their only interruption was the distant hum of the arrival of the beasts.
The raw anger in the tone filtering through her comms was both invigorating and sorrowful. Beneath her, the ground trembled faintly with the intrusion of the drill. The base itself was sprawled across the smooth rock before her like a hulking metallic spider, and the insult rang sharp in her Vanguard’s speech. This would not go ignored.
Though it was black and dark, she found the stars to be a welcome sight once more, unperturbed by the firelight leaking through the seams of the broken-down barn as they were. From a distance she could catch murmurs of deliberation, and she watched with some modicum of dry entertainment as Suraya slipped silently through the splintered roof. Yes, there was much to be done, but tonight, she would rest.
It wasn’t common for her to enjoy battle. Of course, there was a certain trance to it, a current that when followed made it easier and swifter. Yet she couldn’t deny the fervent, wicked glee she felt as she watched Thumos fall, and it stayed with her as she boarded the creature’s ship and left its ruins behind.
The plan was simple. Destroy the needle in the sun’s eye, return at night, swiftly overrun and overcome. None of it was easy, and the hope she felt flickered when she saw the weariness on her siblings’ faces. Strength, she reminded them, courage. We have been laid low. We do not need to let it stay that way.
The burning heat of the sun was distracting, but she did not let it deter her as she stormed the sleek and evil thing, her brother and sister close behind. The beasts had kept this hidden from them. Now, they would no longer return the favor, and it was with a great roar of fire that she broke their great weapon.
The night was dim, but the moon’s light still rested gently across the cold city, and she knew that had she stood back to watch she would have seen it flash with gold and blue and violet. Instead she was one of the golden streaks herself, dancing across the rooftops with fire in her veins and her hatred trained sharply on the hulking figure of the black.
Never before in all her years had the life in her felt more vibrant. Everything was bright and yet nothing was brighter than the roaring light of the Traveler as it rent the great beast apart atom by atom. She could feel the flood of purity from where she lay on her hands and knees, rippling, pouring, spilling. Her entire being was alight with flame, and she opened her soul and drank.
The tingling warmth didn’t fade as she leaned on the metal railing. The presence above her was real and alive, and it was so intoxicating that she almost didn’t notice the four beings approaching from behind. She locked eyes with Suraya, shared a nod. From behind her a hand came up to clasp her shoulder, and she could feel the Commander’s respect as easily as she felt her Vanguard’s pride and gratefulness. Most of all she felt the Traveler’s heat, and light, and love, and she clasped the exo’s hand with nothing less than what she felt.
Ghaul was gone, the Vanguard was reunited, and this--the strength, the family, the rebuilding, the Light--was the aftermath. There was so much to think on and so much to witness, and oftentimes she found herself drifting as she welded a panel into place. The Tower was gone, but the Tower was also new, and fresh. Her brothers and sisters were beside her again, and rather than candles they were now a crackling bonfire of hope and joy. Content, the breeze in her hair and the Traveler overhead, Fiona turned her face to the sun, and breathed.
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