Last Light

Blurred images flitted through his consciousness like fresh paint on an inky canvas, tarnished mosaics that displayed moving pictures in real time, yet were near indescribable to his uncomprehending mind.

He could see countless worlds glowing brightly with soothing light, prosperous, hopeful souls living in an age of golden wonder. There was peace, there was prosperity, there was the light.

Then, there was darkness.

A great hurricane of blackness swept in from the void, raining down destruction and ruin upon the people of light.

There was a great war, spanning decades… centuries. New images surfaced, blurred reflections of a period so horrible he could hardly describe what was shown to him, atrocities on a scale so colossal it was impossible to fathom. World were lost in darkness, entire civilizations swept away by the advancing tide that sought to consume all vestments of the light.

There was a fall, the cradle of their civilization, their last bastion, a sacrifice made, and the darkness abated.

New lights emerged, minute sparks that struggled to bring back the brilliance of a dying star. Their cause was just, and over the centuries, the light of a benevolent god shone bright once more.

It was not to last.

The darkness returned, the once warring tribes unified in an effort to stamp out the light once and for all. Another war was waged, larger in scope than its predecessor. They fought to preserve the light… and failed.

Their worlds were taken, their advanced technologies pilfered, their greatest warriors slain, their light… consumed.

In their final battle, the last gate was destroyed, their greatest hero struck down by the physical manifestation of darkness, and their people lost to the void they fought so hard to repel.

A fragmented story with even more fragmented visions, all crammed into the skull of a single vulpine.

Fox awoke with a start, gasping for breath as the strange dream slowly faded. It had felt so… real. Yet as he slowly became aware of his surroundings, the meaning of the dream and the contents of it itself began to fade, even as he struggled to cling to what he felt was significant in some way, that to lose it would be to lose the message it meant to relay.  

“Doctor, Doctor Chakwas, I think he’s waking up!”

What he came to recognize as a recently acquainted voice was enough for him to temporarily forget the strange dream and focus on his current status. He could tell by the medical sigils on the walls of the room and various monitoring equipment filling the chamber with gentle tones, that he was back on the Great Fox, and that the female soldier from Eden Prime was there as well.

Groaning as the muscles in his aching body protested his efforts, Fox shifted into a seated posture, the clack of military issue heels slapping sharply against the deck, drawing his focus as he turned to watch the recognizable figure of Doctor Chakwas come from behind him.

He knew the middle-aged raccoon very well considering the years they had served together, and counted her amongst one of his very few close friends.

“You had us worried there Mccloud, how are you feeling.”

“Honestly, like a used doormat.” He winced, the very action of rubbing his brown causing pain. “How long was I out, and how’d I get here?”

“You’ve been out for around fifteen hours, something happened down there with the artifact I think.” The Doctor answered.

“It’s my fault.” Miyu spoke up, the feline stepping into view with an apologetic mien, arms folded close to her chest.

Fox could believe that he was out for fifteen hours, seeing as the Gunnery Chief had time to shower and slip into a uniform.

“I must have triggered some security field.”

“It’s alright marine, we all make mistakes. I just hope you’ve learned from this. No touching ancient alien artifacts of unknown power.” He chuckled, weakly, his vocal cords rough from either misuse or, as he hoped was not true, screaming in pain as the relic friend his brain.

“Where is it now?” He wondered, it being obvious what he was referencing.

“After you pulled me out of the way and had yourself knocked out cold by the artifact, it… well it looks like it’s been activated, whatever that might entail. Not knowing what else to do, we took you back to the ship and a shuttle came by to retrieve it. Since then, it’s been sitting in the cargo hold.”

“What do you mean by activated?”

“Just that…” Miyu replied, somewhat mystified. “The things glowing with this blinding golden light, hardly anyone can get close enough to get a reading off of it, not that there are many people on the ship willing to. What scans we have pulled off it reveal absolutely nothing, zilch, nada. It’s like it’s not even there.”

The word light had an effect on Fox, the vulpine recalling the strange dream he had. He didn’t know why, but that term resonated within him.

“Physically, you’re fine.” Chakwas interjected, resuming her duties the ship’s medical officer. “But I detected some unusual brain activity, abnormal beta waves. I also noticed an increase in your rapid eye movement, science usually associated with intense dreaming.” The raccoon claimed, eyeing him curiously.

Feeling as if he had been prompted to explain, Fox did his best to describe the peculiarity of his vision. “I saw… I’m not sure what I saw… death, destruction… darkness. Nothing’s really clear.”

The Doctor rumbled her throat and scratched at her chin. “I’ll add this to my report. It may- oh, Captain.” She turned to the sound of the med bay’s door opening to admit the rabbit.

“How’s our XO holding up, Doctor?” Peppy inquired as he entered the room.

 “All his readings are normal, I’d say our Commander is going to be just fine.”

“Glad to hear it.” The rabbit smiled softly as he turned to Fox.

“Mccloud, I need to speak with you…. in private.”

Understanding the message, both Miyu and Chakwas quickly departed the room with a salute to the Captain.

Peppy waited till the door closed and they were fully alone before he continued. “That mission was pretty rough on you, not just the artifact, Are you sure you’re alright, Fox?”

“I don’t like soldiers dying under my command.”

“Jenkins wasn’t your fault, Fox. You did a good job.”

That’s what command always told him, not that it made it any easier. Holding a sigh, he decided to shift topics. “Chief Lynx isn’t part of the crew.” He referred to the fact that she was still on the ship. He would have thought she would have been dropped off at the nearest alliance garrison.

“Since we’re down a soldier and her unit was wiped out, I figured we could use her. She’s been reassigned to the Great Fox.”

Fox couldn’t find any fault in Peppy’s reasoning. She was an excellent soldier, skilled, determined, and willing to put the extra effort in any combat situation. She’d make for a good replacement for Jenkins, as sad as that was to consider.  But as upset as he was about Jenkins, he was even more pissed at the alliance.

“Intel dropped the goddamn ball, Sir. We were not at all prepared for what we walked into.”

“Geth haven’t been seen outside the veil for over 200 hundred years. No one could have predicted this, Fox. And I won’t lie to you. Things look bad. A colony was attacked, Nihlus is dead, and the Geth are invading. The only silver lining from all this is that we managed to recover the artifact, and even then we don’t know what’s happening to it.”

“What is happening with it, Sir?” From what he heard from Miyu, it appeared as if the artifact was active.

“I can’t tell you for sure. Both passive and intensive scanning has proved ineffective. From the reports I’ve read on it before the attack, it wasn’t like this. Whatever happened when you touched it, altered that. Now, we have a live forerunner artifact on the ship. I can tell you, it’s making the whole crew uneasy.”

“I want to see it.” Fox didn’t know why, but something inside him was telling him that he needed to go back.

“Are you sure, Fox? The last time you were around it, it put you in a coma for fifteen hours. Who knows what might happen if you were to interact with it now.” Peppy’s concern was palpable in his tone and uncertain expression.

“I can’t explain it, Sir. But I just feel as if I need to. There’s this feeling, and I can’t shake it, but it’s telling me that whatever that artifact is, it’s important. Something about it is different than the others.”

“I’m all for gut feelings, son. But we can’t afford to risk the ship and its crew. There’s no telling what affect it could have.”

“Please, Sir. You just have to trust me. Have I ever been wrong before? And besides, better something bad happen here on a ship in space, then inside the citadel with millions of innocent civilians.”

This gave Peppy pause, the rabbit taking a few moments to ponder his suggestions.  “I don’t like this idea at all. However, if you feel it’s that important I’ll give the go ahead. But if there’s even a hint that something is going wrong I’ll jettison the entire cargo hold into space. Are you willing to take the risk?”

“Yes.” Fox answered immediately.

Peppy sighed in resignation, a faint chuckle passing through his lips. “Very well, I’ll inform the technicians that you’ll be heading down to see it. I hope you’re gut feeling pays off once again, Fox. I’d have to hate to tell James that I spaced his son.”

“Believe me, Sir. You won’t regret it.” Fox assured him.

Peppy concluded their conversation with the news that now he had awoken, the Great Fox would be heading back to the relay to report in with the Citadel. Fox wasn’t looking forward to the oncoming debriefing, but hoped his hunch about the artifact would pay off.

Bidding the Captain goodbye, the vulpine followed after him into the hall, where Miyu was waiting for him.

“So Sir, what’s the plan?” The feline inquired as she quickly fell in step behind him.

“I’m going to take another look at that artifact.” 

The sound of her footsteps beside him faded and the vulpine turned to see her standing in place in the hallway several feet behind him.

“You what? Respectfully, Sir, that thing is dangerous.”

“Correct, and I intend to see if it was worth all the trouble we put into getting it.” He answered calmly before resuming towards the elevator, where a slightly nervous feline joined him.

“Still think it’s a bad idea.” She grumbled.

“Duly noted.”

A few minutes later and the lift deposited them in the cargo bay of the ship. The Great Fox was unusually large for a cruiser, with a crew of just under 400. Like the overall design, the cargo hold too was unusually spacious, accommodating a small section of Kodiak shuttles, a handful of strike craft and even a pair of landmaster rovers.

But he was more interested in the strange relic sitting at the far end of the bay, sectioned off by a small squad of marines who were having a difficult time warding off the crowd of off-duty onlookers.

Fox tried to ignore the fact it was situated right beside the ramp.

He had a feeling that nothing would go wrong. After all, he was certain he had expended all his bad luck tokens for the week. It was about time that something went right.

As he approached the cordon, the marine in front, a rather intimidating ursine, acknowledged his existence with a curt salute and rumbling voice heavily inflected with the accent of his homeworld. “Glad to see you back on your feet, Commander. The Captain just radioed in that you were planning on taking a look at this blasted thing.”

“It’s good to see you too Misha. And Peppy was right, that’s the plan.”

“Can’t say it’s smart, but I’m curious.” The bear admitted with a growling chuckle. “Nikola and I just made a bet, he says you’ll be put in a comma for thirty hours this time. I bet sixty.” The following grin was slightly apologetic.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Fox muttered.

“Anytime Mccloud. My squad will clear the area and then you can get started with… whatever it is you are going to do.” The bear stepped away and soon after the crowd followed, till it was just Fox and Miyu standing near the artifact.

“You know…” He turned back to the cat, gesturing to the place where the rest of the crew had retreated to. “You can wait over there if you want.” He had no intention of forcing her to be here with him in the ever increasing likelihood that shit would hit the fan.

“My squad gave their lives for this thing, Fox. I intend to see this out the whole way through.” The feline answered with a determined glint in her eyes. “Plus… I kinda maybe just might have joined their bet.”

“Really?” He was actually quite surprised, the feline sure moved quickly.

“Yeah, I bet you’d get spaced.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence…. You do realize that’d include you as well?”

“Bah, my reflexes would save me.” The feline waived off with a scoff.

Fox shook his head, frowning as a thought suddenly came to him. “Hey, where’s Bill?”

“The biotic? He stayed by your bed for a few hours till Chakwas chased him off and ‘politely suggested’ that he should get rest some rest. He’s been sleeping since then.”

“Too bad, I’m certain he would have wanted to be here for this.”

“Sure… who wouldn’t want to mess with an ancient alien relic that nearly fried your commander’s brain.”

Leaving the feline’s comment unmolested, Fox turned towards the golden radiance emitting from the artifact. Here it was, the object a whole colony had been invaded for and triggered the arrival of a race of machines that had been in seclusion for centuries. Fox was starting to see why the geth might have had a vested interest in it. He couldn’t even begin to guess as to what the strange pods purpose was, but the fact it radiated light and was heavily decorated by forerunner glyphs just screamed “look at me I’m important.”

Now that he was here, Fox was somewhat nervous with the fact he intended to make contact with it once again. But his curiosity had him press onwards. He wanted to know the meaning behind that bizarre vision. Perhaps this artifact had the answers sought by the civilized galaxy for thousands of years.

What happened to the forerunners?

What was the reason for their disappearance?

As a kit in the various schools of the fleet, he had been fascinated by the tales of an ancient precursor civilization so advanced that scientist struggled to understand the technology left in the wake of their inexplicable passing.

This was his chance to discover their fate, not only that, but to be the first to put answers to the age old questions asked by so many, and that was enough to stay his fears and propel his feet to stand by the device once more.

Miyu remained close by, but he noticed that she was still far enough that she’d have time to react if things started to go south.

Fox chuckled softly at that before returning his full attention to the artifact before him. Fascinated, he studied the runes ornamenting the ovular contraption. Scholars had yet to fully translate the forerunner language, only just barely grasping the meaning behind a handful of runes in their immense alphabet. It was no surprise then, that Fox couldn’t understand a single one of them. And yet, as he looked down upon the glowing hieroglyphs, he did feel something from them.

It was strange, but the sight of the bold artistry of the alien script set him at ease. He felt comfortable… serene, as if his soul was immersed in soothing warmth. It brought an unconscious smile to his lips, images and memories of his family summoned to the fore of his thoughts.  

There was just something… good, about the artifact, something… noble. He didn’t understand what brought this assertion, but he couldn’t shake the notion. He was no longer afraid of it, but he did feel compelled to touch it once more.

Uncertain, but trusting in his instincts, Fox once more placed his paw on the forerunner artifact.

He remembered the first time he touched it, a blazing light burned so bright it scalded his mind… This time was different. Cool, yet warm to the touch, it was a peculiar feeling that graced the pads on his palm, but not at all uncomfortable. Where the light once burned, it now draped over his thoughts like a warm blanket on a cold night.

The glyphs on the artifact flickered, and were now different. He looked down upon them, somehow able to understand them… if only just. He realized they were not so much words, as impressions on the mind, relying on emotion to express their idea. Perhaps some kind of empathic technology?

Fox felt a myriad of sensations as he observed the alien glyphs, something about release… hope. He didn’t understand what that meant, but he did recognize the intent behind the two newest runes that suddenly appeared on the illuminant alloy.

He was unsure if he should key the prompt, but he had a good feeling about the artifact now, and so pushing aside his reservations, he dropped a padded digit and pressed it firmly against the rune he chose.

The response was near instantaneous. The alien scripture ornamenting the forerunner device flashed out of existence, and Fox watched in awe as a beam of light sprung forth into reality, trailing a line down the center of the ovular relic. Small horizontal pathways branched off as the artifact began a process Fox did not understand. Though it was clear he had triggered something.

Then, with a sharp hiss of unrestricted air, the artifact split open. Like a flower in full bloom, luminescent sheets of metal separated from the top and peeled backwards, releasing a gaseous silvery vapor that rose up from the newly opened pod before slowly retreating back within. 

Fully realizing what he had done, Fox looked back to Miyu.

The feline had seemingly forgotten that she was attempting to keep a safe distance, and now stood just behind Fox, Miyu’s amber gaze mirroring the vulpine’s own wonder. For whatever it might mean, the artifact now revealed its purpose.  

It was not a cache of advanced technology, nor was it a reliquary of ascendant knowledge, but merely… a container.

But the greatest question remained.

What did it contain?

Fox’s wonder was suddenly terminated as a strange sound resonated from within the forerunner vessel, and he was stricken numb by what that portended.

Whatever lay inside the container… it was alive.

*****

The sky itself was on fire.

What space was not lit a flame was occupied with the vessels of the enemy; Fallen Ketches disgorged hordes of SIVA infused warriors, the vultures tearing into the city’s archives, armories, and research centers, pilfering the knowledge of humanity’s greatest minds.

Kabal dreadnoughts shattered walls that had withstood the darkness for an eon and destroyed any vessel brave enough to oppose them. Priceless works of art and the hope of a people was so much ash underneath the cannons of an alien fleet.

Hive tomb ships deployed swarms of thralls, led by an abyssal host of taken executioners that ravaged the civilian habitation blocks. The cries of agony and appeals for mercy of a doomed populace echoed throughout the once unbreakable bastion of human might.

The time manipulation capabilities of the Vex warped legions of mechanized assassins that tore deep into the flesh of The Last City, corroding their defenses from within and sowing the groundwork for their destruction.

Those that still lived fled to the final gate that still stood, the last refuge for their scattered people that lay at the heart of their flagging metropolis. The tower, the last bastion of hope still flickered dimly with the light, though its defenders were few, they were tenacious and unrelenting.

The guardians, humanity’s defenders, waged a desperate battle from their seat of power. Many had already been lost to the dark, but the survivors fought on, even as their world collapsed around them for a second time. The few that remained rallied at the site they decided would be their last stand, the gates of the tower itself.

This was something he had never hoped to see again. As long a life as he had endured, it had not prepared him for the knowledge that he might live long enough to see the end of his people. Yet regardless of his sorrow, he fought on knowing he could do nothing else. He could not afford to dwell on inconsequential things like grief.

He was the last of the lords, what he considered a terrible irony, as he had been the most reluctant amongst them, and what many of his brothers and sisters had claimed, a charlatan. Yet here he stood, at the golden gate of the last stronghold of their race, leading those guardians that remained in their solemn duty.

The guardian could have fled, as he had once before, but he had made his mind. This was it, where he would stand for the last time. He was tired of running. It was time he faced the end he deserved. He had been left with less than a hundred to defend a gate that required at least five times that number to properly hold, all fresh recruits, not even half a century under their belts.

They were to be the next generation to uphold the Traveler’s light.

Now… they would be the last.

He held no illusions that they would win. He knew that this would be the last battle between the light and the dark.

Shaxx, Cayde, Kora Rey, Zavala, just a few of the many heroes that had given their lives to hold the walls, a selfless act of bravery that ultimately failed. He was all that was left of an ancient legacy, the last of an antediluvian order. Their newest members had succumbed to the dark in the opening centuries of this newest conflict. The darkness bearing all its strength down upon the Travelers’ gifted few with merciless fury.

A weary sigh passed through his lips as he rose from his genuflection before the fallen form of his last brother.

“Rest in his light, Saladin.”

Together they had staved off the end for time immemorial and Saladin had always joked that he would be first among the two to fall.

He found the joke did not hold the amusement it once did.

“My lord, what do we do?”

He turned away from the corpse of the greatest friend he had ever known, the hopeful eyes of a young guardian staring back at him.

He smiled at the sight, it banishing his morbid temperament.

Here they were, at the twilight of their species, and these pups still clung to the hope they would endure. He envied them, he truly did. They had an even greater faith in their god then he did.

“What do we do?” He questioned the air, looking up to a sky full of fire and the lumbering ships of their enemy, to a firmament clogged with the scent of gore and despair. Leaning down, he retrieved his helm from the bloodied dirt and donned it, turning to the youthful warlock with a whimsical chuckle.

“The answer is obvious pup, we fight.”

“Come little light,” he turned to the spherical machine hovering beside his head. “We have work to do.”

Stretching forth his gauntlet, an ancient, battered rifle materialized out of the air and he caught it in his deft grasp, gloved hand running over the worn-down grip with fond affection. The weapon was nearly as old as he was, and they had endured countless firefights, side-by-side since the day he had forged it. He thought that if this was indeed to be his final day, that he carry a tool with the most sentimental significance.

“I told you not to call me that.” The small shard of the Traveler muttered sullenly as it hovered after him, disgruntled at the teasing nickname it had been forced to tolerate for many long years.

“I know.” He answered with a lighthearted chuckle.

If these pups still clung to hope, then he supposed he would as well.

The experienced guardian gazed upon the small crowd of young warriors assembled before him and the once mighty gate, at their tired faces still burning so bright with hope, and remembered why it was he had ever bothered to come back.

How could he forsake those in need? He had once before, long ago. And after that day, he vowed he would never abandon them again.

He was a guardian of the Travelers’ light, the last of the Iron Lords, slayer of Crota, and the champion that had crippled the hive god Oryx. He had destroyed the garden’s heart and tore down the house of wolves.

He was the bulwark upon which the darkness broke.

As long as he lived, he would bring hope to those that remained. After all... he was a guardian.

It was in the job description.

*****

The first thing to bring him back to some semblance of consciousness was a particularly irritating noise, like air forced out of a leaky pipe. Then, he was fully awakened as a jolt of lightening exploded in his chest as he recalled the last memories he possessed.

The gate, it had fallen.

Hate burned like caustic fire as it set his thoughts aflame with righteous fury.

He had returned. The very personification of darkness, and the vilest creature it had ever conceived. With his power, the defenders had been swept away by his apathetic cruelty. With the gate destroyed, hordes of hive would be unleashed upon those that yet lived, the last remnants of humanity.

This was no time to rest.

It was a fierce struggle as he forced fatigued limbs to surrender to his will. The guardian barely took a moment to register his location, more focused on returning to the fight as quick as he could. Those young guardians still had need of him. He would not let them fight a god alone.

His immediate location was cramped and confined. Perhaps he had been buried in rubble? That was of no consequence, a small obstacle he would overcome. Though as he felt around, it came apparent that he was not buried; only restricted to a space about the approximation of his height.

The way above him was open and he could see light that ushered him onwards with its guiding warmth. Measured yet hastened movements brought him out of his strangely defined prison where he was blinded at first by the light and weakened by his previous injuries and slumber. The guardian barely contained the necessary strength to extract himself from his confinement.

As he crawled out, he realized that he had not been submerged in debris as he once thought, but placed within some kind of device that’s purpose was unrecognizable. The light itself was also strange, blinding and artificial. Unlike the warm touch of the sun, it grated on his already blurred vison and made it difficult, if not impossible, to see where exactly he was.

The guardian’s strength failed him and he collapsed, the clatter of plasteel plates filling his ears as his armored body roughly impacted the ground. The sound of metal on metal was a surprise to him, as the last place he remembered being had a concrete surface. His experienced perception noted the particular sound as starship grade alloy, and he could hear the gentle rumble of a drive core.

This was a sharp enough revelation to banish the cobwebs in his mind and bring a brief moment of clarity to the miasma of his scattered thoughts.

Had he been captured?

After humanity’s last fleet action, which culminated in a pyrrhic victory, they no longer possessed vessels larger than a guardian jumpship. As he did not hear the crack of bone and chitin usually associated with a hive tomb ship, and seeing as vex had no use for space flight, he reasoned that either the cabal or Fallen to be the responsible parties for his incarceration.

He knew not for what purpose they might have for capturing him, only that he was needed back at the city. The young wolves could not hope to survive without him, not against the manner of foe they faced.

 But if he was to escape, he needed a weapon. And if he wanted a weapon, he would need the help of his robotic friend.

Opening his mouth, his first efforts to speak only ended in a nasty fit of hacking coughs. It suddenly became a supreme exertion of will to simply inhale oxygen as he choked on what felt like a thick layer of dust coating the interior of his throat. His larynx struggled to form words, as if he had not spoken in a millennia.

It took time but eventually he was able to force some manner of expression from his throat, it coming in the form of a rasping growl.

“Little… light…” He croaked out amidst a coughing fit that had yet to abate.

The answering rebuttal of a sullen machine that he had come to always expect, and even welcome over the many years was absent, his only response coming in the form of a deafening wall of silence.

“Ghost…”  He called out weakly. Now slightly panicked, he scrabbled around his surroundings, as if he might find the little AI lying about the deck beside him, seeking out the comforting response of a being that had become his closest friend for as long as he could remember.

But there was no irritated response, no capricious interjection, just the deadening silence of his solitary mind. With growing fear, he realized he could not feel the machine’s presence either; his cognizance absent of the usual reassuring awareness of another being that customarily lingered at the back of his thoughts.

There were only two explanations as to why he could not feel the presence of his ghost.

Either they had been separated… or…

Voices disturbed his worried musing, strange and unfamiliar. The speakers were near, and from the increasing volume, drawing nearer. Realizing that he could be in danger, the guardian shifted towards the pod, hoping beyond hope that there might be something within that he could use to defend himself.

Though his focus was murky, indistinct, and narrowed to finding a means of self-defense, a small part of him hazily recognized the unusual dialect being traded back and forth between the two voices. It was not the guttural utterance of the Fallen, or the booming snarling of the Kabal, but earthen in origin, specifically of a nation state that had once existed on the western continent many millennia ago.

He himself had spoken the vernacular and been a part of that sovereign territory, what seemed like an eternity ago. Since, he had all but forgotten more than a handful of words, broken phrases that barely supported the mismatched jumble of nouns, adjectives, and verbs that still lingered somewhere deep within his oldest memories.

Yet as curious a development this was, he did not allow it to cloud his already hazy mind from the gravity of his situation. His vision was clearing slowly, but there was not telling if he could wait to rely on its full recovery before calling himself to action.

Still unable to find the grit to fully rise to his feet, the guardian settled for propping his upper body on his armored kneepads as he stretched a gauntlet into the pod and felt around. Behind him, the voices had grown louder, and he could sense, were directed at him rather than each other.

He strained his muddled mind to come up with some sort of plan, until his plated glove bumped against something familiar. His armored digits quickly tightening around the object, he gathered the remnants of his strength and surged to his feet. The clatter of plasteel filled the air as he moved with a supernatural quickness, his movements enhanced by his close attunement to the light and centuries of hard-earned skill, ensured the path of the recovered blade was near impossible to track. The sword he had forged in the depths of the iron temple split the air with a melodious whistle as it soared towards its target.

*****

“Is… that can’t be. Is that what I think it is?” Miyu’s bewildered tone hardly did justice to the overwhelming rush of emotions that overcame her at the sight of the individual crawling out of the pod.

“My god… it’s a…. it’s a forerunner.” Fox’s capacity for speech was delayed as he gazed upon something he had never thought he’d see in the entirety of his life. Though its features were concealed underneath a strange suit of armor, Fox could think of no other being that this creature could be other than a flesh and blood embodiment of a culture long thought to have died out.

He watched as a living legend flopped to the deck of a starship and croaked out a scattered phrase in a language that not even his universal translator could decipher. The words were lilting and harmonious, even in their present coarse state, unlike even the melodic asari tongue in its inimitability.

That’s when Fox truly realized, this was it… the real deal.

He didn’t know whether to call for the Captain or try and help the obviously fraught individual before him. Eventually he settled on neither as he stared on in stupefaction. Fox noted, somewhat clinically as he watched the being writhe on the deck, that the method forerunners’ used for stasis was apparently not a kind one.

It took a particularly violent attack of coughing before Fox decided to do something. Taking a nervous step forward, the vulpine hesitantly approached the alien, watching its every move in both fascination and disbelief as he drew closer.

It seemed to be searching for something, its movements growing more erratic and panicked by the second as it failed to find what it sought, its probing path eventually taking it back to the pod where it rummaged inside.

Fox wasn’t sure if it was even aware of their existence yet, and it was with uncertainty that he opened his mouth.

“Hello… can you understand me?” The tod was aware that his efforts were most likely futile as it would most likely not be able to understand a single word he said. The being’s movements stopped at the sound of his words, and Fox hoped that he might have made some progress.

Then there was a sword in his face.

He had no idea anything could possibly be that fast. One second the forerunner was arm deep inside the stasis pod, next there was a massive bladed weapon hovering an inch from the vulpine’s throat, close enough that he could feel the razor sharp edge brush against the fur coating his gullet, just that brief contact shaving several hairs with frightening ease.

The vulpine instantly froze in place, and he could see out of the corner of his eyes that Miyu had likewise instantly ceased all movement. A brief and tense silence dropped over the cargo hold, every pair of eyes secured firmly on the owner of the blade that currently had their commander by the throat.

Fox was unembarrassed to admit that his bowels may or may not have loosened slightly. Not wanting to set off the forerunner who was undoubtedly confused and dissorianted, Fox remained utterly motionless as he studied his possible executioner approach. Though the alien advanced upon him, the sword remained firmly rooted in its current location, one Fox did not particularly care for.

With nothing else to do but watch, he studied the alien with a scrutiny he could confidently conclude was being directed right back at him. Whatever features belonging to this alien were hidden underneath a helmet reminiscent of a time period far back in Lylat’s history, in a day and age where crusades had been waged over differing ideologies.  

It took no savant to recognize that this particular individual of the forerunner race was not a scientist or scholar. The heavily armored and cloaked hardsuit of archaic design swiftly ruled that out. But why would they see the necessity in preserving a soldier?

Fox wondered this but did not put too much attention on considering the answer as he placed the majority of his processing power into his current dilemma.

All he knew for certain in that moment was that he still had quite a few bad luck tokens left before the week was over.

*****

With swiftness he halted the edged weapon’s descent as his partially recovered vision lingered on a sight he found absolutely extraordinary.

As a guardian gifted what was in essence immortality by the Traveler, he had lived a remarkably long life, a life at times he had considered to be too long. In those uncountable years he had faced all manners of creatures, some defying humanity’s perception of the meaning of existence.

What stood before him was no fallen wretch, no hulking kabal warrior or vile hive knight. It was not even a creation of the Vex.

It was an animal, for lack of a better term.

Yet it was no mere terran creation, despite its uncanny resemblance. Foxes, like most of earth’s native fauna, had been driven to the edge of extinction by the darkness. And he was absolutely certain that they did not stand on two legs or possess the glint of intelligence in their beastly eyes.

No. What stood before him was… different. Neither man nor beast, it was something in-between, perhaps the result of golden age sciences? He had heard that the geneticists on Venus had been on the precipice of a major scientific breakthrough in genetic manipulation before the planet had been lost to the Vex. Ghost had even managed to recover some of the files before they had lost Venus a second time.

Ghost…

Turning away from the creature but keeping his blade at its throat, he scanned his immediate vicinity only to see more of these beings. One, a feline of exotic origin, stood close by, while a crowd of even more varying species was not too far off either.

This was a starship as he had come to accept, but it was just as unfamiliar as the creatures that inhabited it. The layout was strange and utterly foreign, yet at the same time... familiar in a way.

It did not take the guardian long to realize that something was wrong, and as he looked back to the object he had been released from, his sword clattered to the ground, released by numbed fingers.

It had been neither rubble nor debris that confined him… but a stasis pod. He and the speaker had spoken on the topic in detail many times over the waning years of the second heavenly war and he had even been a part of their initial development. Only a handful had been created before the science behind their manufacture had been lost to the dark.

Pieces to a puzzle he did not wish to solve slowly interlocked with one another despite his reluctance.

If he had been inside such a device….

He trembled at the implications. An unfamiliar starship crewed by a race of creatures never before seen in the traveler’s light,  

This could not be…

The guardian stumbled away from the furred alien before him, the animalian biped put to the back of his thoughts as he returned to the pod that had been his prison for an amount of time he had yet to discover. With great trepidation, he ran a shaking palm over the interface, bringing up a display with a time stamp.

Stasis initiated: 4578 Galactic Standard

Stasis Deactivated: 5*7** Galactic Standard

Warning! Insufficient data for accurate extrapolation!

Projected time in stasis: 50,207 years, 8 months, 2 weeks, 5 days, 6 hours, and 15 minutes

*****

Fox was startled when the sword suddenly disappeared from its threatening positon and was instead left to carelessly drop to the floor. Rubbing his throat, the vulpine watched the alien step away and approach the pod, clearly distraught by some cataclysmic revelation. Fox did not think hard to figure out what might be cause for its distress.

With a wave of its hand, a haptic interface materialized above the open container and a sheet of information in forerunner glyphs popped into existence.

Whatever information on display had a clear effect on the alien. Flinching as if struck, it took a step backwards, perhaps not quite believing how long it had been asleep.

Fox found himself feeling pity for the forerunner. Whether or not it had intentionally been put inside the pod, it was mostly certainly finding itself out of place and time.

With bravery he did not feel, Fox once more moved towards the alien. “I’m sorry, but you’ve been sleeping for… a very long time.” He didn’t know if it could understand him, and he knew that he could not begin to understand himself what it was going though in that moment, but he could at least make the effort to offer some kind of condolence.

*****

The guardian was numb, emotionless.

Though he had grown used to time and its effect, he could hardly comprehend what the pod was telling him.

If its estimation was correct, he had been in stasis for more than 50,000 years. Yet as hard as he tried, the moments leading up to his stasis could not be accessed. He could not remember them. Last thing he could remember was the tower… burning.

His artificial companion was nowhere to be found. He looked to the pod once more and gave it another more detailed search. Within he was partially relieved to see his rifle, which he quickly mag-locked to his spine, but there was no sign of the shard of the Traveler’s light.

Ghost… was gone.

This realization struck the guardian on a profound, near spiritual level. Ghost had been at his side since the day he had become a guardian, for two thousand years they had known each other, endured through hardships unending. Not once in that time had the machine insisted on a name other than the one the Traveler gave him. He had been dedicated to serving the light, and at being his closest friend.

The guardian felt hollow without the little machine, as if a part of his soul had faded with its disappearance. Without Ghost’s guidance, he was truly lost.

He heard the alien’s voice once more from behind him. With Ghost, he would have been able to access his past memory so he could effectively converse with the creature, but as his companion was gone, he would have to find a way for himself.

Aiming his concentration inward, he searched for the memories of his past. He knew not how it was possible or why it was that these beings spoke the dead language golden age scholars had called English, but he considered it an unexpected blessing as it would allow him the ability to communicate, and he had a great many questions to ask them.

A particular memory surfaced from long ago, back when he had still been considered human. For a brief moment the outside world faded away as the voices of someone long dead filled his head.

“Treat the metal with respect. Don’t force it to change. Instead guide it along the path it chooses to take. Remember, you are its teacher, not its master.”

“Good… just like that.”

“Excellent work son.”

The memory faded as quickly as it had appeared, lost once more in the endless depths of his mind.

But… it was enough.

*****

Fox held his breath as the forerunner turned to face him, and he wished he had bothered to freshen up on the first contact manual. Though he had a feeling it would have not been enough to prepare him for this.

The vulpine’s eyes tracked the being’s movements as it raised its hands, realizing that it intended to remove its helmet. Curious as to what the precursor race looked like, Fox watched in fascination as it unlocked the seal around its neck and slowly pulled its helm away.

As he first laid sight upon the ancient alien’s features, Fox was actually startled by what he saw, or rather by how familiar it was. The Forerunner looked much like an asari, though to him it had a distinctly masculine aura surrounding its coarse visage. Wanting to put a gender to the creature, and after taking a few seconds to get a detailed look at it, he decided that it must be a male. Where asari had blue or purples scales, the forerunner had smooth skin with a somewhat tan complexion. As an alternative to the tentacles associated with the asari species, he had a short ruff of blonde fur on his scalp that was reflected on his chin and cheeks.

However, it was the forerunner’s piercing gaze that truly struck him speechless.

Unlike any eye color Fox had seen before, the male’s irises glowed softly with the hue of molten gold, and blatant confusion.

“What… are… you?”

That voice, it was haunting, each word drawn out by lips that had not moved in eons. As dry as a desert and ancient as time itself, yet at the same time warm… and kind. Fox felt no animosity from this male, merely curiosity.

The vulpine was surprised to hear recognizable words filter out of the alien’s mouth, but considered that finding an effective means of communication would not be beyond a race as advanced as the Forerunners.

“My name is Fox, and well…. I’m a fox.” The vulpine winced at how stupid he sounded, even to his own ears.

Wow, you’re doing a great job me. The first person to speak with a forerunner and you made yourself sound like an idiot.

”Yes… I know that.” The ancient alien rumbled softly, his golden gaze becoming more direct. “What… are… you?”

Fox was puzzled by the cryptic nature of the question. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.” He reluctantly confessed.

The Forerunner took a step towards him and Fox resisted the urge to take one back, instead letting the alien study him with the most intense stare Fox had ever experienced. Fox felt as if the olden creature was gazing into his soul.

It was… unnerving.

“The light… I sense it within you. Yet it is… faint… lost.”  The alien appeared troubled, his lips twisting into a contemplative grimace as he scanned the entirety of the deck and the growing crowd surrounding them. “You know what I am. However… you know not who I am.”

Again with the enigmatic musings, while without a doubt one of the more interesting dialogues in his life, Fox was beginning to come to the conclusion that this was so far above his paygrade that every second burned was more than he made in a year.

The vulpine looked to Miyu quickly, sharing an unconscious agreement that she should go get the captain.

In that moment, the forerunner took another glance at the machine that had imprisoned him for more than fifty-thousand years, coming to a realization in that brief instance of clarity. “I am the only one… the last.”