A/N: 200 B**CHES! THROW SOME DAMN REVIEWS, politely hand me some stones, and check out my Patre*n for more!
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A jolt of pain pulsed through his head. Void stirred awake, lying inches away from the campfire.
"Ugh...what the hell. I don't remember sleeping out here." He shook irritably and squinted while pinching his temple. Void groggily struggled to his feet, his eyes darted around, and he sighed, "Obsidian."
Obsidian blinked with a bright flash, "At your service!"
Void jerked and reeled his head back, "Relax. Take it slow. Just tone down the energy."
"Uh-huh, got it." Obsidian nodded, his eye blinked as a laser scanned Void head to toe, "So, how're we feeling? Energetic? Full of Light?"
"More like strangely sore." Void grit his teeth and stretched out his hand, "Can't you, I don't know, patch me up?"
"About that...." Obsidian grimaced, and then his eye pulsed. A hologram depicting Void's body flared in front of him. It was then slowly colored in using black and white. "Your body right now is very unstable...No, perhaps it's best to say that you're only functioning due to an external influence."
The hologram flickered, showing a pale aura around it.
"Zamyr." Void nodded.
"Yup. With your whole body starved of light for more than a few days, simply being in Hellmouth had built up a lot of damage." Obsidian sighed, "Void, you're really only alive cuz of the sword. Even now, as I flood light into your system, your recovery is....unremarkable."
Void's brows furled.
«He's right. You've pushed yourself to the limits, O brother mine.» Zamyr whispered in his ears, his voice laced with caution, «Don't take this lightly.»
Obsidian continued, "Despite your versatile arsenal, your body is entirely dependent on light. No matter how strong you are, confronting darkness without the light is bound to cause irreparable damage."
"Right." Void looked down at his palms. The strange pain assaulting his body finally made sense. "I suppose I have to lay off the Hive for a while."
"That's a given. But, you also need to shape up your light." Obsidian pulsed again, this time showing how slow Void's body was repairing itself, "Your absorption is far slower than other guardians. Given that you've only been using the light for a few months, it makes perfect sense. Unfortunately for you-"
"Unfortunately, I am picking battles I can't exactly afford, is that it?" Void stretched again, forcing out a breath. "I understand the risks, and I'll definitely work on my light. But for now, we do have something else to focus on."
Void looked around. The neon lines over the tents had dimmed to a low hum. The campfire had flickered out, now a smoking lump of charcoal. Half a dozen Guardians slept around it in crooked circles—helmets off, boots still on, cloaks pulled up to noses.
Void stepped carefully between sprawled limbs, sidestepped a dropped fusion rifle, and picked his way toward the war tents.
His eyes narrowed; only one had light. Void dragged the flap aside and stepped in. Cayde's chair tipped back, and he raised his brows.
"Morning," Cayde flashed him a smirk and said. "Grab a seat. Hope the napping pile didn't startle you."
Void dragged the chair out, sat, and leaned back. "Didn't think so many of them would sleep. I thought guardians didn't need it much."
Cayde said. He let the chair settle forward and finally took his feet off the table. "What can I say, it's not like they're machines." Cayde shrugged, "That sorry bunch has been grinding for days. Be it taking care of Sanctuary, keeping an eye out on Hellmouth or patrolling, they've tirelessly been at it for a few days."
He tilted his head and glanced at the guardians outside. "I'd say they earned that sleep."
Void nodded. The ache in his skull softened; he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Zavala and Ikorra?"
"They're handling something back in the Tower.", Cayde sighed, and the light tone thinned a degree. He laced his fingers and leaned on his elbows. "Don't really want to dump City business on you, unless you're asking—"
"I'm asking," Void said.
"Right." Cayde's lips curled up. "They got a ping off the outer relays—odd signal bouncing around the Ishtar Academy. Quite weird, not loud weird. Just, unnaturally old. Some of our scouts picked it up and sent it back."
"Vex?" Void asked.
"Could be. Nothing more ancient than those creepy f*cks." Cayde said. "But you know how Zavala gets. He couldn't wait till morning, and well, Ikorra wasn't letting him go back alone." He spread his hands. "I told them I'd keep the lights on here."
Void let that settle. "And you didn't go because…"
"Please. Me? If I take my eyes off this place for five seconds, those sleazy dogs will jump down Hive nests in a heartbeat to get some good loot. " Cayde chuckled and pointed outside.
Void chortled, "Just say you're worried about them."
"Oh, I am worried, alright. I can practically see them drooling for Hive relics, I can see it in their eyes," Cayde said, pointing to his mechanical iris. "Those bastards are only in line cuz I am here."
"You sure it's not because if you catch them, they'll have to give you a share?" Void smirked.
Cayde's smile settled, and the hunter cleared his throat. "What? No... Uhm." He shook his head, "Well, put that aside. What are you going to do with that information? I thought you said you'd be quiet?"
"I intend to be. But, if there's something really going on in the Ishtar Sink, isn't it worth a look?" Void got up and heaved a breath as he walked to the tent flap, "I will keep in touch."
Before Cayde could respond, Void stepped out, picked his way past sleeping cloaks and scattered cups, till he made his way to the edge of Sanctuary. Just then, Void's eyes flickered to a distant ridge, and his gaze tensed.
"Hmmm.." Void scratched his chin. He waited a few more seconds but then chose to disregard whatever had caught his attention. He rolled his shoulders and clicked his wrist, summoning a Jumpship.
The next second, his figure scattered into glimmer, and the Jumpship's thrusters fluttered, shooting into orbit.
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A figure cloaked in silence shifted uneasily, crouching beneath the edge of the Moon's ridges, her heart tensed, and her breath hitched. She remained completely still, afraid that a single mistake would give her away.
As she felt the presence watching her fade, the familiar sound of thrusters echoed in the barren lunar desert. Her eyes flicked up. A Jumpship had entered Orbit.
She heaved a sigh of relief and dropped, "Sharp as ever." She murmured to herself.
Her ears buzzed; a call was coming in, but why?
The figure frowned as she looked down at a strangely archaic watch fitted on her wrist, and the realisation finally settled in.
She was late.
She tapped her ear, and static flooded the channel.
"What the hell are you doing, Elsie? You need to leave, now. A minute too late and you won't make it in time." A sharp voice cut through.
Elsie tapped her wrist, configuring the watch's dial akin to a compass. "I know. I just had something else to do."
"Something else? After all these cycles, something else? But that's not in your notes. You've never done anything like that before. So why now?" The voice urgently asked, and a frantic sound of pages turning scraped Elsie's ears.
"I had to see it for myself." Elsie chimed in, "The Moon."
"What? Don't tell me, it's because of him again? Have I not told yo-"
"I know." Eslie frowned, "I know all too well. How many times do you think I've seen him? How many cycles has it been?" She gripped her rifle, "But it was different this time, so I had to see it."
"Different? You told me that he was the only variable in every cycle. That it was never the same, so what's different now? Isn't it just another variation?" The voice tensed.
"That's simple." Elsie dusted herself off and got to her feet. She yanked the rifle to her shoulder and looked down at Sanctuary. "Because in all those cycles, he never did this to begin with."
The voice paused, as if stunned.
"Are you suggesting... a singularity? A new change?" The voice pressed on.
Elsie hesitated.
"I do not know." She replied.
"But, if it's truly different this time. If something really has changed. Then we must pull him to our side." Elsie turned the dial on her wrist one more time, and the watch gleamed.
"He's the only one who can help us," Elsie spoke up. "For this, I'll look into it myself." She tapped her ear and cut the call, unwilling to listen any further.
Elsie clicked the watch; her figure emanated an eerie aura, and she vanished as if the world itself had forgotten her. Like she'd never existed.
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