┠☼┨

   If the Warmind could taste, it would be bile.

   He could feel the hitch, like a gag, before the sensation washed over him. It burned, it suffocated, it was bitter, and brought forth old memories that surfaced only at times where he felt ITS presence. 

   The days had been quiet and that alone concerned him. Since the defeat of Oryx, Rasputin had grown incredibly restless. No such defeat came without as much consequence as it did reward. The Hive had become weak in numbers, as did the Cabal, and the Fallen were scattered. The Vex had left him alone and that by itself was unusual.

   Now, lacking warning, he felt IT.

   He felt ITS overwhelming aura trickling into his system like tendrils - clinging like a vine. His bunker groaned heavily as he strained himself to narrow down ITS location. Whether or not it was truly the being he had identified centuries ago or simply an individual damned by ITS power, he was not yet certain.