Transcribed by: Sara Bankemper
Narrator: I dropped into the tower and stood there for a moment looking across the courtyard. I could hear Tess talking about Fenchurch and Kadi helping the other guardians with their loot. I took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Then I coughed roughly trying to get the lump out of my throat. My life was about to get really complicated and I wasn't sure how to feel about this. Facing emotions I thought were long resolved wasn't my strength.
Narrator: As a Titan, my strength is found in the power of my right hand, the load I carry upon my shoulders, and the courage in my soul to defeat the enemy in front of me- regardless of the odds. I had defeated droves of Hive, throngs of Fallen, and crushing crowds of Cabal with nothing but my gun and my light. This was an enemy I buried a long time ago that has returned to haunt my soul. There was no rock I could punch, no ogre to shoot, and no screaming sprawling mess of death in front of me. This was the quiet darkness and nearly inaudible pain of my soul silently wrapping its claws around my heart again- trying to drag me back into the pit of vengeance. The only way to conquer this foe was an ability I was poorly trained to implement… Forgiveness.
Narrator: My eyes then turned to Zavala and my breath quickened. I jogged over and waited patiently as other guardians handled their business with him. I glanced around as the last one walked away making sure there was no one else within earshot and approached him. Our eyes met such that all Awoken know each other in that unspoken way. I almost saw a slight smile turn up from one corner of his mouth, yet he still greeted me like every other guardian he sees.
Zavala: “Guardian. What news?”
Narrator: I walked closer to him so that our bodies faced out toward the city and pulled out my Ghost in front of us so no other guardians could peek in. I played the hologram of my sighting of Uldren Sov.
Narrator: Zavala watched intently. His eyes never wavered from the projection. I could see his forehead wrinkle as the image became clearer. He may have even muttered the word "No", but I couldn't quite tell. He turned back to me as the voice faded.
Zavala: “I had heard the rumors.”
Narrator: He stopped and looked up at the Traveler hanging above us. Its numerous pieces floating around, almost enveloping us with a sense of security that I wanted to believe was real, but not with the Darkness coming. Not after what happened with Rasputin. Then I felt his dutiful focus return. He looked at me again with strong eyes and an intentional tone.
Zavala: “We don't have time for petty revenge missions, Guardian. I need each and every one of us to be gathering information on these pyramids and supporting Eris. I won't authorize any official strikes in the matter.”
Narrator: I put Ghost away. I knew he would say that even before I decided to tell him. He turned away slightly as he finished, and I could feel his soul aching in the way that only Awoken know each other. In the way that when one of us hurts we all hurt in some form or another. Cayde's death hurt him more than he would ever say out loud and deeper than anyone other than fellow Awoken could feel.
Narrator: He looked back at me with a knowing stare. It wasn't commanding, nor was it meant to intimidate. It was one more of knowing his duty and the coming sacrifice that would be necessary to win. He had swallowed his personal feelings so many times before that maybe he fooled himself into enjoying the taste. This time it looked like he didn't even have to try very hard.
Zavala: “Back to the front, Guardian.”
Narrator: I started to say something when another Guardian came up to him. Zavala quickly turned to her and said...
Zavala: “Hello, Hunter. Let's get to work.”
Narrator: I walked away knowing he and I may never speak of this conversation again. Zavala was the kind of Awoken that never let simple things like emotions get in the way of what needed to be done. I guess that's the perspective that comes from centuries of life experience, and thousands of resurrections. Maybe someday I might understand that better. I moved on because I knew I had one more person to tell.
Narrator: Stepping into the energy of the bazaar in the Tower was always something I enjoyed. It had so much more life than the courtyard. There, Shaxx was always yelling, Tess was always selling and Rahool was always telling tales. Here, the market was where the majority of the non-Guardian population hung out. The smell of the ramen stands and the daily announcements of the coming apocalypse always energized me.
Narrator: I considered stopping to explain how the doomsday declarations were so wrong and tell them what was actually happening on the other planets. I never did though. It just didn't seem like the right time to explain what really happened in the Black Garden. I don't know that I could explain what the Deep Stone Crypt was actually like for someone who didn't possess a para-casual perspective. Instead, I would play with the children who scampered around the area, playfully challenging guardians with their paper Saint-14 Shields or toy replicas of Ace. It gave me fleeting moments of joy to watch the pure and innocent play of children. I miss innocence sometimes.
Narrator: I stopped at the top of the steps and looked down at Ikora as she looked over the city. Her bookshelf was oddly unorganized, and her work table had papers haphazardly stacked all over it. They flipped gently in the breeze of the day as she stared out into the deep valley. She looked almost lost for a moment until she sensed my approach.
Ikora: “Quickly, Friend.”
Narrator: I again stepped closer so we both faced the city and pulled out my Ghost with the projection so no one but us could see it. She watched it all the way through and her face never wavered until the end where she nodded slowly and turned to me.
Ikora: “My Hidden and I have known about this for some time.”
Narrator: She knowingly whispered as she turned back to her table. She placed both hands on it and took in a slow, deep breath before turning back to me.
Ikora: “He seems to have a fascination with Niobe Labs we don't yet understand. As a member of the Vanguard, I cannot officially authorize any action in the matter. This is an extremely low-priority mission in the face of what we are currently dealing with.”
Narrator: She paused for a moment, examining me.
Ikora: “You already told Zavala and he gave you the same answer, didn't you? He also gave some long-winded speech about duty and sacrifice or something.”
Titan: “Actually, no. He…”
Ikora: “Ahh, I keep forgetting about the shared Awoken empathy.”
Narrator: She looked up at the Traveler. Not the same way that Zavala did with firm resolve and focus, but instead with eyes full of questions.
Ikora: “I'm sorry, Guardian. I can't help you, nor can I stop you. I owe Eris all I can give her in this endeavor with the Darkness.”
Narrator: I could feel the pain she attempted to hide with those words. It pierced through my armor and deep into my chest to know she, too, hadn't truly resolved Cayde's death for herself. It was a well-hidden weakness that I didn't know a guardian like Ikora, with centuries of perspective, could harbor. I always believed that my own frailties would slowly melt away over time through experience. A heart forged upon the funeral pyre of battle only becomes stronger with each resurrection. At least, that was what I believed until now.
Narrator: I looked at her as she almost begged the Traveler to take the pain of Cayde's loss from her mind. I was there when Cayde's light faded away for the last time. I was there when we buried him. I saw her eyes full of the centuries of knowledge and power pleading for the release that tears of anguish bring, but she didn't let it come for some reason I couldn't fathom at the time. I could hear the silent, desperate screams for justice against the Barons flowing from her soul. She couldn't just lash out in a fury of revenge. She took Cayde's final death very personally, and yet, as a member of the Vanguard she never lowered her emotional walls enough to let anyone see her grief.
Narrator: So I took the mantle of revenge upon myself. Uldren Sov was as much mine as he was anyone else's. I had the luxury of being able to end Uldren. I was just another light bearer on a quest. Ikora and Zavala were, and still are, icons of an ideal that bonded the rest of humanity together. They permanently set aside their personal agendas for the sake of being responsible for the survival of all the people in The Last City.
Titan: “Well, what about Cayde?”
Narrator: She turned to me and gently put her hand on my shoulder. I could almost feel her push the pain down again as she firmly reminded herself of the duty she bore so well. The effort it took for her to retain her steely exterior seemed immense
Ikora: “Titan, I owe the living more than I owe the dead.”
Narrator: I nodded to her and walked away. I walked slowly back up the steps and toward the plaza so deeply lost in my thoughts that I knocked over the maintenance frame who always seemed to be cleaning up the same spill in the hallway. I apologized profusely, just as much to it as it did to me, as I picked it up from the stone floor. I handed the mop back to it and walked away again, pondering my next move.
Narrator: As I passed Banshee and all the Guardians buying their daily bounties, I could hear Shaxx yelling about grenades again. I almost wanted to take him up on his offer to exchange punches just so I could get this frustration and anxiety out of my heart for a moment. Maybe if my ghost rezzed me a few times I could start forgetting what I saw back in the EDZ.
Narrator: I looked up from my emotional conflict to find myself staring down the stairs that lead into the hangar. The hangar. That's where I could find some clarity. I broke into a jog and headed towards Saint-14. I passed Holiday and glanced quickly to where Cayde used to stand just before jumping up the stairs headed toward Saint. He was feeding his birds like always and greeted me with a loud, joyous hello. As I got closer, he could sense my inner turmoil.
Saint: [in a heavy Russian accent] “Guardian.”
Narrator: His concern pierced through his helmet into my heart.
Saint: “I can feel your burden. Come, share it with me that we may carry it together.”
Narrator: I turned his shoulder toward his ship and away from the main hangar crowd to play the video again. He watched the whole thing through, nodding his head slowly.
Saint: “This is the man who killed Cayde. No?”
Narrator: I was surprised at Saint's question. I nodded in response, I figured I would have to explain the whole thing to him, including my part.
Saint: “And you killed him in The Dreaming City. No?”
Narrator: I looked at Saint in surprise.
Saint: “Osiris and I talk much about the events I missed when I was gone. I know all about your accomplishments with him and in The Dreaming City. I know all about the Barons. I only wish I could have fought alongside you. It would've been absolutely the best.”
Narrator: He let out a full belly laugh that shook me to my core. He put his arm around my shoulder and motioned to the image of Uldren.
Saint: [laughing deeply] “Ah… You see, he is a Guardian now. He is just like you and I. The Traveler has chosen him to be a light-bearer and to stand against the Darkness.”
Titan: “But–”
Saint: “But nothing, my friend. He is a Guardian and knows nothing of his old life. It is our job to help him become part of our battle today. I care nothing about what the Vanguard thinks of the past. Believe me, the past is there for a reason.”
Titan: “Cayde was–”
Saint: “Yes, he was. Cayde was and is no longer.”
Narrator: Saint firmly spun me by the shoulders square to him so my eyes were just inches from his helmet.
Saint: “That man is still out there in the EDZ, my friend. The mere fact that you found him and didn't kill him says all I need to know about how you feel.”
Narrator: He firmly slapped my chest with an open palm.
Saint: “You know in your soul that we need him. We need all guardians to come together for humanity's survival, for our survival, for the Travelers’ survival.”
Narrator: I looked back at this legend of a Guardian, who all of us looked to as a shining example of what we should all aspire to be, and confidently nodded my head. Saint reached for his shotgun and said...
Saint: [sound of shotgun racking] “I will meet you in the EDZ. Send me the coordinates.”
