There's a transmission that comes in, and the voice in the message is quiet, though should still be quite distinguishable: D-dad. I can't come home. There were Guardians infected with.. something. The viruses. There were so many colors and I feel.. strange. I can't risk coming back to the Tower. They make it so hard to see and I am lost, the Darkness is strong here and I cannot leave if I wanted. I'm s-sorry, and I hope this reaches you. I love you and I am sorry I can't be there to protect you-
Very few people are aware of the direct frequency leading to the Speaker; in fact, he can count on both his hands the amount of people who know how to access that frequency. He makes a mental note of these people’s whereabouts, worry beginning to claw at him, and when a particular voice finally shines through, his breath is caught in his throat. The mites… they can’t have gotten him…
‘ S-Saint… no, please,’ comes the soft desperate whisper when the transmission fades, his head bowing as he begs, ‘ traveler, please, bring him back safely– keep him safe–’
He needs to leave, he needs to find him, but the dim lighting of his observatory gives him his already hanging answer. He can’t. He can’t risk infection, not now. But--
‘ Hold on to your Light, Saint, stay strong... I am not losing you again-- ’














