Destiny 2 - Account of a Rising

Blackness. Nothingness. Emptiness.

That had been all the Awoken could remember before this moment, here and now. She felt like there was more before it, but it was as though there was a crystalline wall in her mind, behind which her past lay. As she probed at it, thoughtfully, she realized that she could perceive beyond that boundary, but what lay beyond it was more emptiness. There were glints of fragments of what might have been memories in that crystalline wall, but they were ephemeral and slipped through her grasping mind's fingers.

She wasn't sure how long she'd laid there after taking her first breath. But she finally sat up and acknowledged the flitting drone that zipped around her. The rounded spikes of the drone's shell were a matte gray, speckled with faintly iridescent white dots, so that it almost blended in with the starry skies above it. "--rdian?" it was saying, looking at her worriedly. It spoke in a light masculine tone, a steady tenor.

"Are you speaking to me?" she asked it, but even before it answered in the affirmative, she was already looking at herself. She wore some close-fitting leather-like armor which seemed to cover everything below her neck, with lightweight pauldrons on her shoulders. A skirt with a purple-and-gold standard on one hip wrapped around her waist over her armor's trousers, and a pair of belts festooned with pouches for ammunition and other small tools accompanied this. An armored gorget covered her throat and neck, and nearby she saw a helmet which presumably could attach to this. Without donning it, she estimated that it would have covered almost her entire head, leaving a strip exposed from the bridge of the nose to the upper lip. The front of the helmet sported an emblem marked out in gold.

All of it had a touch of familiarity to it, but only in those shimmering wisps of memory in the boundary wall of her mind. There was a holster on one of her belts, and nearby there was a sidearm which she instinctively knew fitted the holster. Retrieving it, she realized that it was somewhat mangled, and probably wouldn't fire. She slipped it into the holster anyway.

The little drone had gone quiet, looking at her with an almost quizzical expression on its... well, it didn't really have a face, per say, just a single optic, so one couldn't really say it even had an expression, so it was puzzling how she could even interpret any kind of emotion it might be displaying. But now as she looked closer, she realized that it could shift the rounded spikes of its shell about its optic, not unlike eyebrows or a mouth, so in a sense it still had a kind of micro-expression that the keen could read and interpret...

 

It was at that point she realized that she had been vocalizing all of these thoughts as she had them. She trailed off, looking back at the drone, which had called itself her 'Ghost.' The Ghost watched her for a moment, then said, with a patient tone, "You obviously have a lot of questions. I promise we'll try to find answers for all of them. But we should probably get moving. It's not safe to stay in one place around here."

"Why not?" she asked, though the presence of the mangled gun in her holster spoke to the truth in what the Ghost was saying.

"We're in the Reef," came the answer. "This is Awoken territory, and they don't much like Ghosts poking around here, much less any Guardians that come around." It-- he, she corrected herself, he has a voice and can think, it's not fair to call him an 'it'-- swiveled to look at her. "You're Awoken, but you're a Guardian, so they won't be friendly."

"Why not?" she asked. "'Guardian' implies that I'm a protector. If I'm a protector, why can't I offer them my services? I could be their Guardian, couldn't I?" There was a beat as something occurred to her. "I can't remember anything, and I think you know that, but ... being a protector feels right. Like I did that kind of thing ...before. And I'm wearing what feels like a uniform and it comes with a weapon, so I probably was a protector of some kind. Was I a bodyguard? Security services?"

The Ghost made a sound like a sigh. "You are such a Warlock." He turned back to her again. "As I said, we'll have time to answer questions later. I've heard stories that the Awoken just make any newly-Risen Guardians they find disappear."

She cocked her head. "Then where do the stories come from?"

The Ghost blinked his optic, before sighing again. "Such a Warlock." Then, quickly: "Please don't ask what I mean. We need to get moving."

She shrugged and started picking her way through the wreckage around her. She'd dimly recognized it was there when she was waking up, but had been distracted by trying to penetrate the boundary in her mind. The stony ground was littered with scrap and wrecked ship parts. Judging by the size of the larger pieces, it had been a single-seater, a personal ship, as opposed to a larger transport of some kind. There were several other wrecks visible as she climbed over a small hill, all with similar purple-and-gold livery to the standard that adorned the skirt she wore, but there were several bulks which looked different to the rest, but in no better repair. The standards on these other ships were of various colors, themselves sporting emblems of some kind as well, seeming of a different design to that of the purple one. Their design looked... alien, in some way she couldn't quite define, like she instinctively remembered-- if that's the right word, she thought-- they weren't made by human hands.

"I think there's a ship we can patch up over this way," the Ghost said. "Get it flying, get out of Reef space--"

He cut off as a bolt of energy spiraled past him. Yelping, he vanished from sight, and she whirled in the direction the shot had come from, seeing several figures approaching. By the looks of them, they'd been scavenging things from one of the wrecked alien ships, all sporting strips of cloth wound around either their torsos or one of their arms which had the same color as the ship's livery. One stood atop a hunk of debris, clutching some strange rifle in two of its-- yes, it has four arms. It lined up on her, firing a salvo at her, but she abruptly found herself standing several feet from where she'd been standing.

The three smaller aliens-- which only had two arms, she noted-- were rushing toward her, brandishing pistols and knives. One tried shooting, but it went so wide that she didn't have to move. She leaned out of the way of a slash from the first to reach her, her hand coming up and using its momentum to send it somersaulting onto the ground. The next thrust its knife toward her face, but she leaned away from it, grabbing its arm and twisting, hearing the snap of bones as it shrieked in agony. She shoved it toward the third, knocking them both down in a tangle of limbs as she leapt away to avoid the next salvo from the rifleman.

"I'm sorry," the voice of the Ghost said in her head. "I didn't spot this salvage crew in the area when I came in to find you, or I wouldn't have brought us this way."

"Save the apologies for after we get out of here alive." Her mind whirled about how she was hearing him inside her head, but as a shot from the rifle perforated the metal plate which served as her cover, she pushed the whirling thoughts aside. "What am I dealing with, here?"

"The Fallen," the Ghost told her. "A race of pirates and scavengers. They don't like Guardians much. Looks like this is just a small crew."

She nodded, and then a pair of the two-arms came around her cover, aiming their pistols. She let out a shout as a shot from one caught her in the stomach, but she lunged out, grabbing it by the arm thrusting the pistol forward, pivoting around and using it as a shield as its comrade fired. The meat-shield slumped as the shot caught it in the heart, and its knife dropped from its fingers. She stooped, grabbing it and lunging forward again, burying the knife in the other's neck. To her astonishment, steaming wisps of vapor boiled out of the wound in addition to some alien blood.

She was so distracted with the pair of them that she didn't see the rifleman flank her until it roared at her, shifting its grip on its weapon. One of its lower arms took the stock as its upper partner swung a fist at her. She went sprawling against the metal plate, head spinning, as it planted a foot on her chest and pinned her down so it could aim its rifle. Her hand came up with the mangled pistol, thrusting it against the Fallen's belly and squeezing the trigger.

The weapon exploded. The Fallen was sent staggering back, blood and vapor seeping from the injury, bellowing in agony. She could hardly hear it over her own screams as she clutched at her wrist below her now missing hand. The Fallen propped itself up against a piece of debris, raising the rifle again as it rattled off something in its language-- right before its head burst, releasing a howling gush of vapor. The body seized up, limbs curling inward, before it dropped.

She managed to stop screaming as she stared at it, and then looked up as several humans appeared with weapons of their own. No, she realized, not humans. They were wearing the same armor she was, and between the gorgets and their helmets' visors she could see their skin was in varying hues of blue or purple.

"We heard the gunfire," one of them was saying. "What were you doing out here?" The speaker was a male, and some insignia on one pauldron suggested some kind of officer rank. He turned to his comrades. "Do a quick sweep, make sure there aren't any others." Two of his fellows went to do so, while he approached her carefully. "What were you doing out here?" he repeated. "I didn't think we had anyone else out here--"

"Sir," one of the others said, a note of urgency to their voice. "Look at her banner." He looked downward, and she followed his gaze to her skirt, and the emblem thereupon. Now she compared hers to theirs, there were subtle glyphs and symbols surrounding the insignia. He looked up at her sharply, and then he had a gun in his hand. He wasn't aiming it at her yet, but the way he moved suggested he wouldn't be slow in doing so if she made the wrong move.

"Tell your Ghost to show itself, Lightbearer," he said, the note of friendliness to his voice now gone.

"I don't know what a Lightbearer is," she said, keeping her hands elevated and visibly empty. "I was ... asleep, I think? Or, no, not asleep exactly, but I don't remember anything beyond a few minutes ago. And then I was awake, and my... Ghost, yes, that's what he called himself, my Ghost was trying to get me to hurry up and get out of here, because he was afraid of running into you. I don't know what the problem is, my Ghost told me I'm a... Guardian, I believe? And that suggests I'm here to protect people, not cause trouble--"

"Trouble follows," the officer interrupted her. "You're a Lightbearer. Last time I'm asking politely." His free hand flashed out and grabbed the broken, bloody stump where her hand had been, causing her to scream again. "Make your Ghost show itself."

"You call this asking politely?" she hissed in pain.

"Yes," came the curt reply. "You don't want to see me get impolite."

Fortunately, she didn't have to ask, because then her Ghost rematerialized, frantically spinning the facets of his shell. "I'm here! I'm here! Stop hurting her!"

To her surprise, the officer immediately released her, looking at the floating drone. "Could have saved her the pain." He rose, gesturing with his gun. "Help her out. Heal her up. And if you try anything, we'll shoot her, then you." He reached up with his free hand, heedless of the blood on it, and thumb something on his gorget, toggling a comm-link. "Team, we've got a fresh Lightbearer here, we need to move. Finish your sweep."

As he was relaying orders, the Ghost nervously floated down to look at her stump. "Sorry," he mumbled. "We Ghosts always hide when the bullets start flying." He paused. "Give me a minute, I'll have that fixed for you..." His shell opened slightly, and a soft light shone between the open facets. She felt the pain receding, and there was a brighter flash of light, then, to her astonishment, her hand was restored, whole and undamaged.

She felt at it, then looked at the Ghost, who explained, "This is one of many things the Ghosts do for their Guardians. We can heal you, even bring you back from the dead in most circumstances." He looked up at her. "We're your guides, too. To help you stay true to the Light."

She wanted to ask him so much more, but the Awoken officer looked down at her. "All healed up? Good. I've just got word from the Black Hull." He stood back and regarded her with a curious expression. "Look presentable. You've got an audience with the Queen."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Ghost took some time during the trip to explain a few things about Guardians, the Traveler, the Light, and several other things. He had to stop her asking questions, explaining again that he only had so much time before they arrived. The officer's galliot was a two-seater, and he had her sit in the front seat, where he could keep an eye on her. The officer, who gave his name as Captain Hollis Eso, had nothing to add during the trip, except to explain that "You are a dead thing risen from your grave. Trouble follows, where Guardians go."

She'd been allowed some time after disembarking to freshen up in a well-appointed bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror, the light purple skin which shimmered strangely, especially in shadow, the luminescent deep blue eyes. Her head was shaved smooth on the right half of her head, and her long silver hair had been wound into thin dreadlocks. There were two pale streaks tattooed onto her face, sweeping up over her eyes and then branching into a series of curls across her brow. The face was hers, there was no doubt about that, but anything else about herself was gone, leaving only faint traces of memory beyond the crystalline veil.

When she was finished, Captain Eso brought her to a large door. He turned to her. "You go in, alone. Your Ghost stays here."

She looked at her Ghost, then back to Eso. "If you hurt him--"

"Yeah, yeah," he waved this off. "Not gonna kill it yet." He made a shooing gesture. "In you go."

She glowered at him, then turned to go through the door. At the far end of the room beyond, a throne was erected, with a commanding view of space beyond it. Someone else was before the throne, his back to her as he spoke in low tones. As she approached, she could hear him say, "--seems solid. Should I have the fleet moved to Cybele--?"

The Queen raised a hand to stop him, her gaze languidly shifting to regard her. "We have a visitor, brother."

The other Awoken turned, regarding her with disdainful yellow eyes and just barely hiding a sneer on his handsome features. "Why did you bring it in here, sister?" He glanced back to the Queen. "Not all of them are going to be as conciliatory as Orin was."

"Excuse me," the Lightbearer interrupted, her voice cold. "I'm not an it. And I'll thank you to remember that."

The man narrowed his eyes, one hand dropping to a knife at his waist. The Queen, however, lifted her hand again, and he looked to her. There passed a moment as they simply looked at one another, before he bowed his head and stepped back and to one side, though his eyes never lost the dislike as he looked at the Lightbearer. The Queen sat forward a bit, resting her chin across the back of her knuckles. "No, indeed, you're not an it. Look, brother, she is one of ours." The prince glanced at his sister, then looked at the Lightbearer, his eyes falling to the insignia on her skirt, then back up to her face. She saw recognition flicker in his eyes.

"Yes, brother." The Queen hadn't looked away from her, but evidently could register her brother's reaction. "This was one of our Queensguard." There was a pause, before the Queen continued, in a flatter, less amused tone, probing, questioning. "Do you remember anything?"

"Of course she doesn't, sister," the prince began, but the Lightbearer surprised herself when she cut him off.

"She was talking to me. Speak for me again, and it'll be the last time you speak." She broke the stare with the Queen to fix him with a glare, which she received in turn. He drew his knife, but now the Queen made a flick of a finger in his direction. He stopped, glancing at her, then shoved his knife back in its sheath as he stalked out of the room.

"Do accept that my brother speaks for himself, and no one else," the Queen stated. It wasn't an apology, the Lightbearer realized. "I would like an answer to my question. Do you remember anything?"

She shook her head. "There's..." She gestured vaguely at the side of her head. "Images? Sounds? Like... impressions left in a notepad under a pencil." She paused, looking away. "It's strange. Why do I remember things like pencils and notepads, but not bigger things like ... who I was. Is this because I was dead? But then how did I get brought back? My Ghost said something about the Traveler and the Light, but he didn't have time to explain--"

The Queen disrupted the rambling train of chatter with a dry observation. "There's never enough time to explain. And this seems de rigueur for the Traveler's idiot children." She tilted her head back slightly, still resting her chin gently on the back of her hand. "Though you at least seem more apt to question such things than most Lightbearers I've met. There may be hope for you." There was a shift of her shoulders which might have been a shrug. "But, who can say. Fate weaves its tapestry, and Lightbearers tear through it without regard for what they've wrought by doing so."

The Lightbearer thought about this, and what Captain Eso had said. "'Trouble follows, where Guardians go,'" she mused.

"My people live in a precarious balance here," the Queen explained. "We stand poised to finally end a conflict that has compromised our secrecy and cost us our safety. The Wolves are at our doorstep, and now you have been Risen here." She arched an eyebrow. "Do you understand how this destabilizes things here?"

She frowned. "I could help," she suggested.

"No." The Queen made a cutting gesture with her hand. "You will not. We do not require your assistance." She carried on regarding the Lightbearer with the same cool stare. "You were one of ours," she finally stated. "You served loyally. For this, we shall allow you to go in peace. The captain will take you back where you were found. You and your little ball should be able to repair a ship with little effort."

She sighed a little bit. She got the impression that this was the best she was going to get from the Queen of the Awoken. "Thank you, Your Grace." She paused, then looked up at her. "You recognize me by the uniform I'm wearing--"

"Yes," the Queen interrupted softly. "You will return it before you leave. We will give you some other clothes to wear."

"Yes, right, thank you. But you recognize me by the uniform," she went on, "and you said I was part of the Queensguard. So presumably you recognize me by more than just the uniform." She paused. "What was my name?"

The Queen was silent, regarding her still without a change of expression. The Lightbearer continued, "I'm not asking for my life story, I know that would probably be too much to ask, and you might not know all of it anyway, you're a monarch, you probably have too many things to keep track of to remember everything about everyone who serves you, but I'm not asking for a lot, I'm just asking for my name, I can figure out more from that--"

"You didn't talk this much before," the Queen remarked. "But that's to be expected when the Traveler decides to bring someone back. They're not the same as they were before." She tapped her fingers against the arm of her throne, and finally gave a microscopic nod. "You were Wahei Ohr. You were a member of our Queensguard, and were seconded to the Royal Armada before you died defending our people from the Wolves." She spread the fingers of her hand, lifting it as if shrugging. "And now you are a Lightbearer. As you said, trouble follows."

The Lightbearer nodded, but her thoughts had turned inward. "Wahei Ohr..." she murmured. It sounded right, and it resonated with the fragments she saw in the crystalline boundary in her mind. Nothing new materialized out of it, but... She stopped herself before she went down that mental pathway. Reborn without memory, she could be told a complete lie and never know it was a falsehood, but if she thought too much about such matters, then she would spend her entire new existence constantly paranoid about truth and the lack thereof. She opted for trust.

Wahei bowed slightly. "Thank you, Your Grace."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"She let you go?" It was a short while later, as she changed into the new set of clothes that the Queen had provided. They weren't much and fairly plain. It was more lightly armored than what she'd woken up wearing, drab in various shades of brown, with a low-collared vest and a truncated, sleeveless robe. There was even a helmet provided. Her Ghost was fussing about her as she adjusted everything, questioning her about what happened.

"She doesn't want me to stick around," Wahei told him. "Once we're done here, she'll let us fix up one of those ships we found near where you found me, and then go." She sighed a little bit as she tried to buff a smudge off the helmet. Something occurred to her, and she said, "She told me my name was Wahei Ohr."

The Ghost was quiet for a moment. "Guardians aren't supposed to look into their past lives. Not all of them were the best people before they were chosen by the Traveler."

"I was a part of the Queensguard." She shrugged. "I'd like to know more, but I get the impression that I was lucky to get that much." She sighed. "How am I supposed to know who I am now if I don't know who I was before? Who you are is determined by your past experiences, and without any of that knowledge, I feel just... adrift, you know? Like there's this gaping nothingness and it's left me in a bewilderment."

"Who you were doesn't matter anymore," the Ghost fluttered the facets of his shell, and she got the impression that this was like a shrug. "You can choose who you want to be. We Ghosts are just here to help guide you and advise you."

Wahei regarded the floating ball. "An advisor, huh?" She clipped the belt around her robe and ran her fingers over the smooth-shaved side of her head. "Do you have a name?"

"No," he admitted. "Some of us do pick up names while we're looking, but I'm not one of them."

She smiled. "Well, if you're gonna be an advisor, I think I'll call you Vizier." The Ghost paused, facets twitching faintly, looking at her, almost thoughtfully. "It means 'advisor,' after all."

"I think I like it," Vizier agreed. She got an impression that he would smile if he could.

"I know we just met," Wahei said as they stepped out of the changing room, "but I think we'll get along just fine." She regarded the figure of Captain Eso, who stood with arms folded as he waited for them. She sighed. "I just wish they'd let me help them."

Vizier made a sighing sound as well. "I know what you mean, but it's ultimately their decision. Even the Guardians back in the City leave the Reef Awoken be." He looked to her. "But if you want to help protect people, the City can always use another Guardian."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Clark, have you seen Ikora? I've checked the usual places, but she doesn't seem to be in the Tower." Clark 55-30 turned his optics from the tablet to face the Warlock who had just entered.

"I believe Warlock Vanguard Ikora Rey is in the Traveler's Garden in the City, Warlock Aunor Mahal." Clark 55-30's voice was a modulated tenor, generally bright and helpful, as most clerical frames tended to be.

"Thank you," Aunor nodded, then paused and looked to the other person in the small meeting room. "Oh! You're doing intake on a new Light, Clark?" Without waiting for the frame to respond, Aunor raised a hand in greeting. "Welcome to the City, Guardian. My name is Aunor Mahal, Warlock of the Praxic Order."

The Awoken gave her a smile. "Hello! I'm Wahei Ohr."

"Interesting name," the Praxic Warlock commented. "Why'd you choose it?"

Wahei's brow furrowed slightly. "I didn't. It's my name," she said.

Aunor made a little thoughtful noise. "It's not unheard of for freshly Risen Lights to find something nearby that tells them their name," she mused aloud, thinking of Ana Bray, or the Laughing Titan, Sergei Bolvan. Bray had found an ID badge with her face on it, and Sergei had been wearing a set of dog-tags.

Then Wahei shook her head. "No, I mean, when I was rezzed in Reef, they recognized the armor I'd been wearing. They made me return it and gave me these clothes to wear," she added, plucking at her vest, "and when I asked if they remembered who I was, they told me my name was Wahei Ohr and I'd been a member of the Queensguard before ... well, before I died the first time, I guess."

Aunor went quiet for several moments, as Clark 55-30 looked from one Warlock to another, merely waiting for them to finish talking so he could continue the routine but necessary paperwork. Finally, the Praxic said, "Guardians aren't supposed to look into their past." There was a faintly accusatory tone to her words.

The newer Warlock shrugged at that. "Vizier didn't tell me that until after I'd already found out. I don't really see what the harm is, in asking questions. From what Vizier says, that's what Warlocks do, and I guess I'm a Warlock now, though I don't really know what that means, exactly, apart from we ask questions and study things, which sounds kind of interesting, to tell the truth--"

"Curiosity, in and of itself, isn't an issue, exactly," Aunor interrupted. "But some questions cross boundaries, and the answers to those kinds of questions are not safe to learn."

Wahei gave a little snort. "Knowledge, in and of itself, isn't dangerous. I'd argue it's what one does with said knowledge that's the danger. And anyway, how is one supposed to know whether the knowledge poses a danger if one does not learn it? If you just accept whatever anyone tells you is the truth without testing it, then they could lie to you and you'd never know otherwise."

Again, there was a silence that went on for several moments. Aunor pressed her lips together. "Hm. I can see you're a Guardian who thinks ... carefully about things." Then she smiled. Or at least turned the corners of her mouth upwards slightly. "You're a bright young Warlock that's going to have a lot of eyes on you in times to come."

Wahei smiled back. "Thank you."

"I did not wish to interrupt," Clark 55-30 finally said, "but we still have work to do before Guardian Wahei Ohr is finished here."

"Of course," Aunor nodded. "Apologies for the interruption, Clark. Good day to you, Wahei Ohr." She left, reflecting on what she'd seen of this new Light. Fresh out of the grave, and she had already broken a taboo, and proved willing to ask questions that most preferred to leave unasked. And where such Lightbearers were concerned, trouble followed.