Light. Exploits; Book I.

Part 6. Undying Curiosity.

It was, now, some time after my own bout with my mind.
It was in a sense clear.
In amidst the clutter.
Understandable.
In a sense it was all foreign.
My powers were split, now evenly between the calm of fire and the chaos of the unknown shadow.
I was no abomination.
I was, in a sense. Good.
Pure.
Light.
But something burned within me.
Not the fire.
Nor the shadow.
Instead it was like a hunger.
After I left the library, broken-hearted for the umpteenth time in the last two days, hoping to stave this hunger.
This curiosity.
My stomach was like a furnace.
And leaving a place that offered nothing only served to stoke the flames.
I go to the Vanguard.
Ikora is hot-headed.
But she can keep things to herself.
And hopefully I'd catch her in a decent mood.
Ikora. I say.
Ah. Warlock. Do what can I for you today. She says without looking up.
I am thankful Zavala and Cayde are nowhere near.
I have a hunger. A curiosity. I reply.
You know where the library is. She says unenthusiastically.
I seek Toland. Or Osiris. I say as a matter of fact.
She stands silent.
Hunched over her table.
Examining her science and her gadgets.
Ikora. I repeat her name.
I heard you... Warlock. She says as if I am cumbersome to her now.
You seek death and undying pain. She says calmly.
Then let me. I reply.
I couldn't tell you where he was even if I knew Warlock. She says almost sadly.
I know she knew of these esteemed arcana.
They were true Warlocks.
Madness. Chaos.
But brilliance in their own... Abstract purpose.
Then I suppose I seek death and undying pain. I reply turning to leave.
This was a fools errand.
Toland is said to have died within the Moon.
And Osiris is fabled to be wavering out there in a slip between the light and the dark.
In a space only ones who have been there can possibly explain.
At the least survive.
These thoughts push me to the old Cosmodrome.
I sit amongst the snow.
Wondering how such particles can exist so cold.
Yet be so warning.
I feel her come up from behind me.
You know better to sneak up on me. I say to her.
But it's you. Like you'd kill me. Farah replies.
How long do you intend to follow me. I say stoic.
Until you catch me.
Her words cut.
Had she truly been sneaking on me.
Why would she let me know it?
She wanted to be found.
I heard from the Vanguard what you're looking for.
No. You can't come. I say coldly. The water rippling out on the forgotten ocean.
I couldn't anyway. There's things for me to do here.
Such as? I inquire.
One last kill. She says holding her Handcannon. Wanna come? She asks.
I breathe in.
Deep.
Solid.
The cold air chipping at the warmth in my lungs.
What is it. I demand.
An old Fallen Captain. Skylir, Barron of The Blade. I've heard he's around out here. I want his old sword. She explains.
It'll get you killed. I warn unenthusiastically.
Not if you help. She smiles and sits with me.
C'mon. One more time. And you don't even have to say goodbye when you leave.
These words cut also.
But it was a different cut.
Like she knew.
I am not good with goodbyes.
I had lost many.
No tears.
Only thought.
Wondering what awaits them.
If they are afraid.
Death.
Such a feeble word to us. Immortals burned in Light.
But still unavoidable.
Very well. I say standing.
I had hoped that by agreeing it would put me at ease.
But it instead threw me to turmoil.
And after I returned home that day I returned alone.
Not just in company.
But in soul.
Like that day.
I had lost something.
Something I didn't even know I had.