A/N: Not real happy with this chapter, but with a year long haitus, I though I might as well publish it and see what happens. Please Read and Review. It's the best part about writing!

The Reef was a graveyard.

Ghost and I gazed at our surroundings in silence, partly out of respect, partly out of rapt awe, as I guided my craft past the shadows of the ancient derelicts that gave the Reef its name. They were legions; civilian jumpships, cargo freighters, museum relics, shuttles of various sizes and models, luxury yachts, colony ships, fighters, warships ranging anywhere from the nimble frigate to the metal behemoth that was once a battleship cut into three, and the billions of the dead each a thousand year old – all of these starships that were spaceworthy and could hold room for refugees had met their end here to a slaughter never seen before in the history of mankind, till they were naught but twisted wreckages and traumatized survivors left spinning in the void among the asteroids.

Ironic, really, considering what they were fleeing from.

I banked left to spin between two broken pieces that was once a freighter before weaving past a labyrinth comprised of jumpships and similarly sized asteroids using a complex series of advanced maneuvers and techniques I never thought I was capable of doing, much less knowing. It was easy, almost instinctive, like I had done it a hundred times before and could do it a million times more without flaw. It was intoxicating. I lost myself to this feeling of absolute certainty, and, for the briefest of moments, I allowed myself to forget everything, my mission, my memories, my duty, the Reef, just to enjoy this moment of euphoria and fly free, just this once.

I don't remember how long I closed my eyes for, nor do I know what I did during that scant moment before I slowed down my ship, nothing except this blurred memory and a feeling of hair-raising sense of excitement and danger. I leaned against my chair, smiling, cradling my helmet between my laps.

Ghost didn't say anything, still staring out of the cockpit with his single blue eye. He didn't need to.

I sighed, for once not out of exasperation like so many times these past months, but out of genuine happiness. "Thank you."

Ghost glanced at me and nodded, before staring again at the Reef. Nothing else needed to be said. The comfortable silence between us was more than enough. For the first time in a long time, I was content. I found myself staring at the Reef, not the broken ships, but the Reef in its entirety.

Strange, I thought, that such a place could be so beautiful. The Reef had a strange purple, almost gas-like substance that permeates it surroundings in a violet haze. When the light from the Sun interacts with the haze, it was almost… stunning. Combined with the wrecks, it gave the Reef its own unique atmosphere. Fallen, but not destroyed. Wounded, but not dead. A second chance.

It fits the Awoken just fine. For that matter, it fits the rest of humanity just as well.

It was at that moment that two blue blips decided to appear on my holographic screen, one on either side of the green icon that represented me. Awoken fighters, the identification tags said. Speak of the devils…

A message warbled from my ship's radio. "Unidentified vessel," it said. "You are trespassing sovereign Awoken territory. State your business, or you will be destroyed."

Ghost perked up at the message, before slightly deflating at the delivered threat. "Friendly as ever." He muttered to himself.

I smirked as I put on my helmet. "Since when did you expect them to receive us with open arms, Ghost?" I asked. Ghost threw a dirty glare at me and was about to retort before I cut him off. "Awoken fighters, this is the Guardian," I replied. "I have come under the authority of the Speaker."

Another moment passed in silence, except this time with tension to it. No doubt the Awoken pilots are relaying the news back to their leaders. The only thing that remain to see if they'll warn us or shoot first. That moment of clarity was gone, leaving me slightly nervous as I sat in the cockpit with Ghost. I have heard stories about the ferociously independent Reefborn Awoken from fellow Guardians who were caught trespassing their space for one reason or another. It didn't make my mission any more encouraging.

For reasons I could never fathom, I spied a jumpship out of the corner of my eyes that caught my attention. Its fuselage was once painted orange, and the edges trimmed with white, with several pencil-sized holes penetrating its hull and rear thrusters. It floated through space several klicks away from us, engines cold, but still somehow managed to keep up.

The message returned. "Guardian…"

The jumpship slowly turned sideways like a Terran whale in the blue oceans of Earth, revealing a gaping hole where the bottom should be. I saw an asteroid approaching at an intercept course with the ship. Out of the corner of my vision, Ghost was trying to get my attention, but I ignored him.

"…urn back now, or you will be sho…"

They collided, the jumpship shattering into half of dozens of fragments. It didn't exploded; there wasn't any juice left in the ship after nearly a thousand years in drifting. The cockpit popped open and, much to my discomfort, its frozen pilot snapped free from its restraints, to spin in the void. Forever, until it was nothing but dust and ashes.

"..do not… back…s… stood, Guardian? Guardian?"

I couldn't suppress a shudder.

Then the FTL alarms started clanging in my ears, and a red alert window popped into existence. I started and found my eyes focused on my jumpship's scanner system. Three, no, five, six orange blips appeared, identified as unknowns, a hundred thousand klicks away from us. Warships, four corvettes and two frigate class, unknown designs and an even stranger signature that is disrupting a precise calculation on the specific details, currently inside the Reef. Scavengers, if I would make a guess, thieves who couldn't resist the allure of one of Humanity's greatest concentration of Golden Age technology in the entire Sol System, despite their notorious protectors. One thing was certain, though. The Tower doesn't have the ships to spare to risk being so far from Earth, much less warships.

Aliens.

Hatred flared at that word. "Ghost," I snarled, but I shouldn't have bothered. He swiftly took control, the holographic screens and systems other than those that are vital already shutting down the second I opened my mouth. I felt a spike of fear that didn't go away when I noticed that we would have been plunged into darkness if it wasn't for Ghost's glowing optic, the main viewing screen, and, after a heartbeat, my helmet's headlamp. Besides us, I was also aware that the Awoken fighters seemed to have a similar idea, as I could see them drifting ahead of me through the main screen, engine cold, but those were minor details compared to my current mental state.

I tried to calm myself, reminding my nerves that I am in space, not Earth, and besides, with Ghost at my side and his unrivalled cyberwarfare, he could make it seem that my ship was just as empty and lifeless as the wrecks around us just as easy as if as he was hacking a Hive terminal. We're safe. No need to worry.

Heh. Yeah, right. I'm not a warrior, no matter how much Ghost might insist so. I rely more on adrenaline and instincts to carry me through than cool thoughts and clever plans. The only real military training I ever received was a haphazard one that my brothers thought to share with me. In real time, that'll be like, a few hundred years ago, give or take? Combine that with my prowess as a Scholar - or is it a Warlock now? Whatever we call ourselves in this day and age - and being what is essentially a supersoldier, I can be a very dangerous and unpredictable enemy in a pinch. The side-effect is that I am more prone to emotions, which isn't really helping right now.

There's a reason why I go alone, really. It's not because I'm weak, really. Quite the opposite in fact. It's just that I never spent centuries honing my skills to a razor edge, and even Guardians are a bit edgy about working with people who are prone to a bit of blue-on-blue even on the best of occasions.

I tried to swallow my fear when Ghost spoke up.

"Incoming encrypted message," He said. "Matching standard Awoken codes. It's the Queen's Brother."

"Shouldn't the aliens be able to detect it?" I asked, hoping that I sounded skeptical rather than afraid, but I didn't put much hope in it. He's like a freaking warmind, for Light's sake. Ghost shook his head.

"There's a reason why the Reefborn was able to retain their independence for so long, Guardian." He replied, nodding toward the wrecks around us. "Despite them having the upper hand throughout the War, humanity's Golden Age technology had always proved to be superior by a significant magnitude and incapable of being reverse engineered by anyone except their creators." He paused for a moment. "I wouldn't be surprised if it's one of the primary reasons why the House of Wolves bent their knees before the Queen."

"Very well then," I said. "Patch it though."

Ghost spread his tips until it was floating in the air and giving off a soft blue glow. I could suddenly hear the Reefborn Prince talking in my ears. "Guardian," He said, his voice oozing of contempt. "I thought it was made quite clear that you should never return unless asked to. So imagine my surprise when I find not one uninvited guest, but two. Apparently your kind have short-term memories when it comes to promises."

I couldn't help but snort in response, and my brain used that to quickly slam the door and turn the lock on the part of me that was getting hysterical. I gave a quick prayer God and the Light for that, before shifting my focus to the conversation.

"Prince," I sighed. "How about we can deal with this after we handle the latecomers?"

He snorted. "We have handed more than our fair share of trespassers, Guardian, some of which I must remind you are some of your own comrades." I could hear him smiling, dammit. "I do believe we can handle a measly squadron of wannabes in the heart of our territory. How dangerous do you think they'll prove to be?"

"Dangerous enough to warrant the Speaker's attention." I shot back. I paused for a moment to try to gather my thoughts and my energy as I could for my next words, but before I got a chance, Ghost beat me to it. "The Darkness is returning," he said. "We will not survive it this time, Princeling. Not without unity."

I blinked. Why was he repeating the Speaker's words? And to the Queen's Brother, no less. I knew something was off when instead of having a comeback, he stayed quiet. What's going on?

As we waited, my mind raced through the possibilities. I may not be a disciplined soldier, but I sure as heck ain't stupid.

So. Any oddities over the last few days?

Well, for one, the Speaker told me to go to the Reef through Ghost, and Ghost wasn't happy about that. Two, I wasn't blown up to pieces when I ignored the Awoken fighters' warnings, like it happened to the other Guardians, so either their security are especially lax or they had plans concerning me. None of which were reassuring. Three, within minutes of warping into the Reef, a squadron of unknown warships appeared as well. Fourth, the Awoken Prince contacted me directly instead of through an underline. Fifth, he was normal up until when Ghost prattled out his words. And finally, Ghost was acting strange himself just now.

Actually, in hindsight, it's pretty obvious. Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a coup on our hands.

"Very well, Guardian." he said. "You'll be aiding in the escorting of the Turians' representatives and then serve as liaison between the Last City to the Turian Hegemony and, on a later date, to the Citadel Council. Routing the coordinates to you now. The Queen would explain more once you're all inside."

I blinked. Wait, what?

"What?" I spluttered, but the bastard had already disconnected on me. I turned to Ghost as he started up the jumpship again. "Ghost? What just happened?" I asked. "What in God's name is going on?"

I mean, I knew it wasn't a coup, but this? Not what I was expecting.

"You heard him." If he had a face, I know he would be smirking at me right now, but as it was he just turned his single eye at me. "You'll be serving as the Tower's representative to a first contact scenario." With hardly a whisper, the holographic screens turned back on and the systems rebooted. My jumpship headed to the coordinates we were given, with our two escorts right besides us.

I folded my arms and scowled at him. "What is going on, Ghost?"

He huffed, and his light-hearted mood morphed into a morbid one. "I don't know either, Guardian. If I was closer, I could probably give you more, but as it is, I only have a small piece of the bigger picture, and that is mainly by luck."

His changing moods were giving me a headache. "You've been hacking their database?"

He shook his head. "Their communication frequency."

"Why?" I asked.

"Why indeed," He muttered, and focused his single optic at me. "The Awoken has made contact with a new alien race, Guardian, and they call themselves the Turian Hegemony. Apparently they are part of a greater empire of which more exists."

His cryptic answer actually now makes sense. "You…you waved an olive branch, didn't you? With his words."

Again, he nodded. "To a certain extent. The Speaker has been continuously warning about the greater Enemy, and it comes to no surprise that it had reached the Queen's ears. I simply reminded them about our War and that they should not stand alone against a new threat, especially since we're so close to victory. This way, in an official meeting with a previously unknown alien civilization, humanity could be seen as a unified front."

I groaned. "I'm literally the worst person for this kind of job, Ghost."

He snorted. "Every Guardian is the worst kind of person for this kind of jobs. You're not the only one who hates aliens with a passion, you know. You just haven't spent centuries honing it down to a molecular edge." He eyed me. "You are many things, Guardian, but what you're not is stupid. I have faith you'll pull it off, just like in the Black Garden."

"I had to nuke the damn thing," I muttered. He beamed at me.

"Exactly!" He cried. "No one else would have thought to crash your starship at FTL speed in order to get rid of it. Usually everyone would've just sent in a fireteam of Guardians and engaged in conventional warfare, but not you! You actually were able to think outside the box!" He cocked his head. "Though the Shipwright was extremely upset about that, but, ah, well. You win some, you lose some."

I shook my heads at his sudden change of mood, but I couldn't help but be amused at his antics. A part of me wondered if that is how he dealt with a Guardian's past while on the field - by acting like a comedian in order to keep my mind on the present and not get killed, but the rest of me ignored it and let it slide as I watched us sail through the Reef. If Ghost doesn't want to explain further, then there's the reason for it. He's a bloody fragment of the Traveler - he sure as Hell isn't dumb, and this just proves it.

I watched the Reef streak past us as we caught up with and settled in formation with a pack of fighters escorting a strange-looking transport. An identity tag popped up above the transport, reading: Turian Representatives: Non-Hostile; Invalid Target and painting it with an orange color. With Ghost now automatically piloting the craft, I decided to study the architecture of the alien's starship while I wait.

The Turians' architecture are...interesting. The best comparison I could make of it is that of an avian-like creature, almost like a rather large Terran bird, except stretched, with short stubby wings pointing outward and the cockpit as its head. Their colors were white with orange borders and alien characters dabbed across the side. Using my helmet's heads-up display, I zoomed in at the characters to take a closer - I narrowed my eyes and activated the cameras in my helmet.

There was an image hidden underneath one of the wings, near to where the landing bay would be located if it was made by human engineers. It was nearly invisible, so I called up a simple program and told it to piece together what it used to be. It was done in under a minute, and what it found made me suddenly suspicious. The program showed me a womanly figure which looked suspiciously similar to an Awoken female, except instead of hair, it has weird tentacles-like frills, and is depicted wearing a revealing skin-tight suit and posed in a manner I have never seen since my hometown was destroyed right in front of my eyes. Centuries ago. Back before I...died.

A little girl's voice whispered into my ear, They're all dead. I looked over my shoulders, and I found her behind me, her left hand on my shoulders and her right clutching a golden butterfly to her chest, her eyes never leaving the alien shuttle. They killed them. She looked at me, her white hair flowing down from her scalp, untarnished of dust or grime, her baby blue eyes pleading to me. Will you kill me too?

I stared at her, a small part of me, the rational part, the side of me that had loved the Traveler's Light and reveled in all of its glorious manifestation, stared at her, numb, but another part, the one that has seen aliens came down in fiery streaks, the part that has seen family and friends die to plasma and blades and who has killed with my bare hands and the Traveler's Light, wasn't surprised to see her here. That part of me, the part of me that remembered, hugged her close to me.

She was young, no more than eight years old. She wore a dirty yellow sundress, and she clutched at a perfect butterfly made out of pure Light in her small hands. I closed my eyes and breathed in her scent and the familiar warmth of the tiny, fluttering Light-creature - the smell of fresh cherry blossom and a whiff of lavender mixed with blood, sweat, and tears.

Never, I mouthed to her.

Mommy told me it was wrong, her eyes never left the transport. A single tear fell down her cheek. But it hurts.

I hugged her closer to me, and I couldn't swallow the lump in my throat. It hurts.

It hurts so much.

Some people had asked me what it felt like; carrying the Light, back before I died. Back then, when I was young and innocent and thought I understood everything there is about the world, had said that it felt like a fire in my hands. The flames of passion, of joy and enlightenment and deep, honest love, flowing through me. Like as if I held a child in my hands and I could shape the very world around us just on the music of her laughter. That I use the Light I held, not for the sake of doing so, for the joy of creating something new with the impossible, but because it was right and just, and what I shape out of the Light I hold will endure forever.

Now?

Sometimes, it tastes like ash in my mouth, as I remember all the ghosts I passed by and didn't do anything, simply because I felt my gift was too sacred to be used for bloody and honest justice, until I found myself straddling the chasm between just in time and too late, the sacred and the sacrilegious.

Mostly though?

It hurts. My heart aches in remembering. My soul burns with me in living, when some many people better than me, stronger than me, had died and was never reborn. Because even if I could run away from my responsibilities and my memories, a little girl with white hair and her pleading baby blue eyes would always be with me. I... did something on the day I died, bordering between the sacred and the profound with the art of the Light. And now I'm once more alive, it now haunts me, neither condemning or vindictive, but...helping me. Kind to me, despite what I did.

And I think that, above all else, is why it hurts so much.

Anger grew inside me, anger at myself and at my past and how I can never escape it, and it grew until I could wait no longer and plunged myself into that bitter taste of ash and pain and fading joy to find what she was suggesting.

She whispered in my ears as I fell deeper and deeper into my psyche, so softly and mournfully that I couldn't tell whether she was talking about herself or about me. It hurts so much.

Or, I chuckled to myself, both.

And then I was hit by an avalanche of Light, and I fell amidst a raging tempest, a storm of so much emotions and passion that I felt I would be overwhelmed, that of billions pin pricks worth of burning Light. Fear, anger, hatred, love, despair, hope, and so much more than I could possibly describe, tinged with sorrow, that I felt like I was drowning in the waters of the whirling brightness, until I felt a spike of coldness where my shoulders should be, and my mind righted itself and found what it was looking for.

It was easy, really. Their presence silenced the maelstrom that is the unending cry of the dead souls around them, which only try even harder to be heard. I only need to take single glance, and already I felt a cold sense of dread in my guts and clouding wisps of smog around the corner of my senses, dulling the mind and culling the spirit. I've felt it before, when I wielded the Blade of Crota.

These newcomers? They reeked of the Darkness.

Suspicious. Very suspicious.

With an effort of will, I severed myself, and with a blinding rush, I found myself back in my body. Any joy I could've taken in all the glory of the Light was immediately ruined when I tasted the blood and ash in my throat. I took a swig of water from my helmet to wash out the taste, but it wouldn't go away. So I did the next best thing: I relaxed.

And it was wonderful. Up until I could feel Ghost floating above me.

"Guardian," he said. "We're here."

My eyes snapped open, and I gave a weary moan as I sat up. We were approaching one of the hangar bays in the underbelly of an intact capital-class warship. The Turian shuttle was already docking up. "So we are," I murmured, and I sighed. That's a problem with the Light. Even with my newfound strength, true worthwhile application takes time, especially by myself. I glanced around me, but the little girl was no longer there. Gone, without a whisper, but I could still feel the warmth of her Light and her familiar scent clinging to me.

Speaking of problems, I looked up to stare at Ghost. He looked at me expectantly. I shook my head no. He nodded in understanding.

"Ready?" He asked, and I could see an unspoken sadness in his eye. I nodded stiffly and stood up. With a flash of subdued light, Ghost and I materialized right at the stairs next to the docks where it would've park, and the jumpship departed back out into the Reef.

I dunno how, but Ghost is able to use some kind of entangled quantum teleportation/transportation system or something that could instantly teleport people planetside into their waiting spacecraft and vice versa. He also uses the same thing in order to store all of my gears, so that I could grab all the loot I can as well as whenever I popped back into existence, like right now, I would be decked out in my battle gear - a ragged, white robe over my protective bodysuit, a breastplate that is the lighter cousin to the one that Titans typically use, which doesn't require a ridiculous physiology to wear, and armored boots and leggings, along with my cowl-like helmet, a pistol sheathed on my leg right next to a machete, and a very special rifle imbued with the Light - a gift from the entity I called the Stranger - strapped to my back. My heavier weapons - which, among other things, include a machine gun, a shotgun, and a heavy-duty rocket launcher - are safely stored aboard what I had come to call my personal 'cache', ready for use whenever I need it.

Ah, gotta love Golden Age tech. And in case you're wondering why I never knew about it if I lived during the Golden Age, that might have to do with being a civilian and dealing with the military's classified intel.

Huzzah. Space magic for the win.

I recalled what I had seen on these Turians' vessel, and my frown deepened as the gangplank deployed and its passengers disembarked. Too many questions need to be answered. I mentally opened up a private channel with Ghost and sent a short recording of my helmet's cameras as I glanced around my surroundings.

It was a normal hangar bay, similar and just as busy as the one back at the Tower. A cavernous chamber, with the ground floor the Turians lies with several other spacecraft in their docks. Ghost and I, and a few of the Awoken pilots, I noticed, on the other hand, are a few levels higher above them, on the stairs where in olden times we would have to dock in order to leave. Above us was the hangar control, where the majority of the Awoken engineers probably lurk while the robots serves as the menial labor. I saw that there were six exits - two on the ground level, two on the middle level, and then the last two in the control center. Always pay to have option. I remembered reading that on the Internet once.

I liked it.

So. SitRep. I'm now a representative to a new, previously unknown race, and if I could by with anything with what the Queen's Brother had told me, there's bound to be more. Big Bro probably pissed at me and maybe the Queen as well, but they still allowed me to attend the meeting. Yippee, lucky me.

I remember our first contact with an alien empire. It didn't end well.

I remember.

I remembered the smoke, the fire, and the all-consuming fear.

I remembered their honeyed words and vows of friendship.

Promise? She asked me, dirty white hair flowing from her scalp, her baby blue eyes pleading.

Of Gunfire drowning out the desperate screams of children, as blood streaked from the virgin sky and the Light of several soldiers winked out every second.

They killed them, she cried, as I did my best to comfort her. They're all dead. Momma's dead, Daddy's dead….

They're all dead….

I gasped inside my helmet, and I had to claw myself past the memories, the anger and self-hatred, back into the present. I had to close my eyes and wait out the storm, hearing the screams and the sounds of war once more inside my head, feeling the anger and the pain I once felt, before it passed without a whisper, and I could safely control myself.

Ghost watched me as I recollected myself. He opened a private channel. "Are you alright?"

"No," I growled, my eyes settling on the so-called Turians assembling before their vessel in a quasi-military formation, just as weird and alien and foreign as the others, yet as I saw more of their movements and gestures, they are in some ways more familiar. And as my face settled into a grimace as we stepped down to meet our new guests, along with some Awoken guards, I couldn't decide which was scarier. "I'm not alright."

I remember.

Now let's see if they're like the rest of the backstabbing bastards.