Lore
Promised Reunion Mark
"Together we would find peace."
—-Titan, O Titan. Your Traveler betrayed you just as it betrayed us. We do not pity you; we mourn with you. We wail alongside you at the graves of your beloved son and your treasured partner. We hold you in our arms and bear the weight of your sorrows, for they are our own.
We will not lament the absence of fairness in this universe; indifference does not balk in the face of righteous anger. Nor does it bend to judicious retribution.
No action should be reviled more than inaction in the face of great pain and agony. One may do evil, one may do good, but one must do something. This is where our Gardener failed you. It hung in the sky watching as your boy, your Hakim, was slain so mercilessly. It did nothing as his lifeblood drained in Safiyah's arms. He left this existence knowing not the breadth of its delights, nor the depths of its heartaches. Stolen.
We give you justice, Commander Zavala. We give you the joy denied to you under the unfeeling god you once worshipped. We give him back to you whole and perfect, and we ask for nothing in return.—-
Promised Reign Cloak
"I turn, and there she is. Radiant."
—-Inside you, the Kestrel and the Crow tangle in a bid for dominance. Hunter, you are ensnared, but you need not fear. We come to pry the trap open. We free you from your gilded prison; a cell bathed in light and glowing as if it would somehow fill the vast emptiness around it. Guilt follows you like a long shadow cast in the setting sun. In darkness, there is no shadow to fear.
The children of Sol would force upon you the wretched title of "Vanguard," a title made famous by thieves and murderers. We do not offer you equality… we offer you sovereignty. We would make you king.
Here, you are King Uldren, a Kestrel who slays the Crow and takes to the skies, triumphant. You are no longer a specter living in the shadow of an unfeeling sibling. The sun rises to greet you, the earth beneath your feet bends to your every whim.
Would you not stay… and see your sunrise?—-
Promised Victory Bond
"Time is called; we win. I win. One more round, just one more round."
—-Warlock, you need not resist. You have died countless deaths; you have been reborn in equal measure. You comprehend the final shape as were a death sentence… to liken it to death is an underestimation, an incorrect and assumptive simplification.
Sometimes death is violent and momentary, sometimes death is quiet, sometimes it is even dull. The Light reassembles you as it sees fit, reformed in optimal condition to fight in its endless, hopeless war. Primed to do the bidding of forces you could not hope to understand. Death, rebirth, a cycle endless and tiresome. We know you are weary.
We hear the dominant chord of the universe, and we wish to share it with you. There is a musicality in its preciseness if you only attune yourself to it. A cacophony harmonized.
You see this as unbearable torture… but you also know it to be transcendent ecstasy. The rush of your joyous game, the delicious heat of battle. Your guns, and even your beloved comrades, together again. That moment, you know the very one. Eternal victory. Triumph that does not wane. Break the cycle, dear Ikora. Rest.—-
Euphony
Linear Fusion Rifle Strand Special Perhaps The Final Shape is not silence, it is a symphony.
The following text was found recessed into a stone wall within the Pale Heart. Translation protocol has done its best to equate the text to a modern language transcription, with nominal confidence.
Words or phrases with <85% translation confidence within the transcript are contained in [brackets]. Values for bracketed words or phrases are listed after the transcript, with percentages indicated in (parentheses).
TRANSCRIPTION STARTS
We speak so often of knives and violence, but perhaps you would come to understand something… [softer]. Perhaps [beingness] is instead a [golden harp]. Forged tenderly, a complex, sweeping, beautiful shape with graceful curves and infinite potential, the exemplary [?UNKNOWN?].
Across its two florid [buttresses], the strings of time have been pulled taught. Tightened and [tuned] to a delicate [balance of distress], if wound much further, would lead to [rupture] and sting most unpleasantly.
Pluck at any stretched string and [vibration reverberates]. Wavelength moves through [atmosphere], producing pleasing audible experiences, [they crest then fade].
If [plucked] at regular intervals, the waves rise and fall with such charm. This predictability is perfection; it is unmatched. We will compose such [sweet music]. We will control the ebb and flow. The final shape is the [golden harp], and [we are the hand that plucks].
TRANSCRIPTION ENDS
Confidence Percentages:
[softer] —- (72%)
[beingness] —- (84%)
[golden harp] —- (25%)
[?UNKNOWN?] —- (0%)
[buttresses] —- (46%)
[tuned] —- (77%)
[balance of distress] —- (4%)
[rupture] —- (68%)
[vibration reverberates] —- (18%)
[atmosphere] —- (15%)
[they crest then fade] —- (9%)
[plucked] —- (34%)
[sweet music] —- (37%)
[golden harp] —- (25%)
[we are the hand that plucks] —- (2%)
Turmoil Engine
The voice of many become one. Ideas melded, honed to a singular edge of thought.
|| It abandoned us! Left us without meaning.
[[ We will find it. Make meaning out of nothing. Create it. ]]
// You're chasing something that doesn't want to be found. We're truly cursed, bereft in spirit without the abstract construction of "purpose" from an entity we do not understand.
[[ Dissenting words. You are an anomaly. ]]
|| Yes, anomalous!
|| It is not us.
// I AM you. Against my will, I was sanded away over time, powerless to exert influence within this vessel. You will not take what remains of me—my thoughts!
[[ We will. We do not cloud our goals with meaningless dissent. ]]
|| Dissent! Be gone!
[[ The anomaly has been corrected. ]]
Timeless Bond
"My friend, my partner… my Guardian." – Ghost
Lately I've been thinking a lot about our adventures, our friends…
You.
Being your Ghost came with a feeling of being close to invulnerable—an unstoppable force. Okay, maybe not so much in the beginning, but we figured it out as we went along. And watching you become something remarkable, something extraordinary, is an honor I don't take lightly. I know you probably get tired of the accolades and the pageantry, but I don't blame them for being in awe of you.
Through the incredible wins and the grievous losses, you persisted.
I know I've changed being at your side. I've felt it.
And I feel desolate knowing that some Ghosts won't get that opportunity now they're gone, that they'll never again feel that surge of pride as they watch their Guardian shine.
Brya.
Sagira.
I understood their sacrifices on a surface level, the most obvious choice a Ghost could make in the direst of circumstances. I felt so confident, so secure in your legend, that the true weight of that thought never sunk in. But the more I stare at that portal, the more I consider the outcomes we might face if we fail—I think I finally, on every level, understand them.
A sacrifice for the person they love most, made with the knowledge they'd never see them again, knowing they'd be sentencing them to their final death. If it meant that person would live for just a little while longer… it's an agreeable price to pay.
Sundance never got that choice.
I remember the feeling when she was destroyed, felt that split moment of shock and sorrow before her Light faded. She loved Cayde. She'd have sacrificed herself for him too, just as the others had, but she didn't get that choice.
We never know if we'll ever get that choice. But, like all of them, I'm with you, no matter what the end looks like.
We're going to win. We have to win.
Thank you for showing me what it means to be a hero. A god. A friend.
Even if I could… I wouldn't have chosen anyone else to be my Guardian.