Prologue: In the Darkness

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I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map
And I knew that somehow I could find my way back
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
So I stayed in the darkness with you

Cosmic Love – Florence and the Machine

-

It is quite impossible to describe these events to you, for you are a being of linear time. From your birth you have been immersed in it. It is part of the universe in which you live. It is the vehicle for your life, every action you take, and every thought that passes through your mind. Every perspective you will ever have is viewed through the inevitable lens of cause and effect.

So to tell this story, we must accept certain limitations. We cannot understand these events truly in their complexity. As a square on a paper could not comprehend a cube, we cannot comprehend what occurs here.

With that being said, let us try anyway.

-

Deep within the Vex fortress known as the Vault of Glass, something stirs. It is notable for being less of a something and more of a someone. Well, two someones, in a way. Or just one, from a different angle.

Semantics like this distinction are very confusing in a place like this.

Two eyes open, as they always have opened, and always will. This action is written into the fabric of time. It is ensured existence by the will of a single being (or two). This being is notable then, too, for having a will, because for the Vex in this place and time there is only the Pattern. This being(s), though part of the Pattern, exists only through its own will(s).

They move, the two of them, as they always move from this fissure in the wall. This fissure has been occupied only once, but also a thousand nights. They always sleep in different places, yet this sleep and waking have happened an uncountably infinite number of times.

The sound of footfalls, though inevitable as the being's waking, do not echo. Or they do echo, but not now, and not here (In the Vault, these two are partially synonymous.). In this way, the being goes unnoticed by the Gorgons of the maze. They are so very, very, careful. They do not make mistakes. In this way, they exist when others do not.

-

They pull along their other Human companion, the three of them rushing towards a specific location, a specific time, a specific timeline. This happens but once. The new (and old) companion holds a different air about him. The Vault writhes against it, but cannot overcome it completely.

-

They hold it in their hands. A shield. The last of Kabr's light. A comfort. The potential is there, but the actions are not taken.

-

The Gorgon explodes, peppering her with shrapnel. They hiss at the pain, at the defeated corpse of their foe, at the Darkness that rushes in to steal their breath. They hate this. It's sloppy. And it wastes bullets. They must do better.

-

The Gorgon explodes, peppering the surrounding rock with shrapnel. She hisses at the corpse and releases her Ghost to collect what he may. The Mythoclast is empty. The Requiem, nearly so. Over the dripping echoes, they hear the whine of Harpy lifters around the corner.

-

They check the gun. Half a magazine left. Seven bullets. They turn to Praedyth besides them, who is panting in exertion. "I'll deal with the Fanatics. You just run." The Warlock nods. The threads of causality pull together into a tapestry. The Hunter smiles.

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