“Okay. Fuck, marry, kill - ”

“Please no,” groans the Crow, dropping his head into his hands.

“Who, who, and who?” asks Doug-5. You’ve never seen him so invested.

You sit apart from the others over the sudden chasm at the edge of the camp site. It is what passes for nightfall in this place. The only light is the distant, pulsating glow of the monolith. Beckoning you. 

Cayde-6 raises three fingers. “Suraya Hawthorne, Shaw Han, and…” He looks around, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial level. “Rahool.”

“None,” says the Crow, indignant, at the same time Doug-5 says, “Fuck Rahool.”

“Obviously,” Cayde-6 nods sagely.

“Marry…uhh.” Doug-5 contemplates this with narrowed eyes. “Marry Suraya.”

“You would kill Shaw Han?” stutters Crow in disbelief. 

“In a heartbeat,” says Doug-5. It’s unspoken between them, that the Crow knows well what it is to be killed by Doug-5, as Cayde-6 knows well what it is to be killed by a creature wearing the Crow’s face. It should be heavy between them. It’s anything but.

“Why?”

“Annoying.”

“Interesting, interesting,” Cayde-6 muses, tapping his chin. “Your turn.”

“Can this end?” the Crow rolls his eyes. His annoyance is only skin deep, and you see in the flickering of the firelight the secret relief written on his face. He feigns irritation, but he is so proud to be one of them in this moment. As asinine as the conversation is, he beams at his place in it. He is welcome.

Are you?

“Alright,” Doug-5 decides, leaning forward. “Fuck, marry, kill: Rhulk - ”

“Not fair,” Cayde-6 interrupts. “I never saw him.”

“It’s a definite fuck,” Doug-5 assures him. “I know Hekate agrees.” He glances at you for the briefest of moments, before averting his eyes. He had to drag you through that fight. He saw. He knows.

“I - ” the Crow sighs. “Honestly, yeah.”

“Then that’s not a real question,” Cayde-6 protests. “This is supposed to be hard. Come on, pal.”

“Fine, fine,” Doug acquiesces. He sits back on his camp stool, looking to the sky as if for guidance in this most important of questions. “Okay.” He raises a finger for each in turn. “Ada-1, the Drifter, Petra Venj.”

The Crow snorts. “Well we all know you and the Drifter - ”

“Did you really?!” says Cayde-6.

“I’m the one asking,” Doug-5 interjects forcefully. “Ada, Drifter, Petra.”

“Damn, damn. Okay,” says Cayde-6. “Okay so - how was it with - ”

“You’re stalling,” says Doug-5, and he might even be flustered if he didn’t look so smug.

“I’m not, I’m trying to make an informed decision!”

“Marry Ada,” says the Crow suddenly. “Kill the Drifter.”

“What the fuck,” says Doug-5.

“He calls me ‘Prince Sideswipe.’”

“If the boot fits,” Cayde-6 mutters.

“And Petra…well…” Crow flushes. 

Cayde-6 slaps him on the back. “See, kid? You can let loose a little, it’s good for you. Your turn.”

The Crow shakes his head, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Alright. Misraaks - ”

To the left of the campfire, your Ghost, Doug’s, and Glint are huddled together. They are cracked and bruised, their innate Light flickering in the suffocating darkness. They seem to draw strength from each other, or at least, comfort. Doug’s Ghost glances his way, and though it quakes you see an undeniable fondness. Glint drinks in the sight of his Guardian at peace, forgiven, by the two instrumental in his downfall.

Your Ghost glances his flickering blue eye at you.

You. Formidable you. Always apart. 

You at last look to the monolith. The moment your eyes focus, you feel Its gaze on you. That constant pressure in the back of your eyes. It is as warm as the fire from which you are excluded.

“Hekate?” your Ghost says gently. He’s broken off from the others, and his words are only for you. His fractured Light seeps through his shell, and he cannot help an involuntary tremble. “Are you sure you don’t want to join them?”

You’ve been invited countless times, but you resist. Doug-5 makes superficial attempts to draw you into the conversations, but this forced levity, this dogged resolve to not discuss the real, pressing matters, is a distraction. Pointless. As purposeless as the universe they’ve chosen to preserve. 

“I wish you’d talk to me,” he says softly.

You look down over the vast, still sea below. Your Ghost has said that this place is beautiful and familiar. You’re not certain you agree. There is nothing natural here. Not the marks of the Witness’ diligent work, yes, but It doesn’t pretend otherwise. It's the abundant gardens, the rolling hills, and the shimmering flowers that repulses you. This pale heart did not grow over a long, careful multiplication of cells evolving to survive and thrive. It simply sprang into being, forced into a shape of life in the blink of an eye by a torrent of godly and unnatural power.

You think of the Distributary, an unnatural hole in the fabric of time. You think of Mercury, a rock a mere blip in the radiance of the sun, forced to flower. You think of rain falling on the surface of Mars. You think of the precursor planet - a hostile desert, terraformed so as to be unrecognizable. All this sudden, abrupt change. Planted and abandoned. True chaos.

You think, maybe, you’re beginning to see it. The truth at the heart of all this. The utter, malicious lack of purpose.

A bottle is thrust in front of you, startling your focus away from the sea. “I swear it’s not terrible,” says Cayde-6, giving it a little wiggle. The blue something sloshes around. “It’s not great, but pickings is slim and what not. And frankly? I think you could use a drink.”

He sits down heavily on the ground next to you. “Can I tell you something?” he says quietly, more somber these past few days than you ever heard him in life. He glances back towards the campfire. Doug-5 is asleep halfway into their makeshift tent, and the Crow is passed out on his shoulder. “I haven’t told the others,” Cayde-6 continues, looking back out over the Pale Heart and the storm brewing at its center. The storm that still calls to you. “It’s…what I saw. With my Sundance.”

He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’ve never been one for ‘visions’ and all that. That’s Eris’ territory, I was more of a shoot first and ask questions never kinda guy. But I know the Sundance I saw? It wasn’t really her. It was the Traveler. I know it’s probably obvious, but those two idiots haven’t put that together.”

He nods back at Doug-5 and the Crow. “But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I didn’t just speak to the Traveler. I saw…well, I saw…It. The same It I think you’re seeing.” Cayde-6 looks at you, that strange Light of his eyes glimmering in the dark of the camp site. “It cut the vision short with a thought. It suffocated the Traveler like tightening a noose, and then it took me right back to the Prison of Elders. Right to the worst moment of my life, and made me watch her die again. There’s not enough of this blue shit in the world to make that hurt any better.

“But I saw it once, saw what it does, and that’s haunted me. And I see that same look in you on a whole ‘nother level. I just. I don’t know. I want you to know you’re not alone. I see this,” he says quietly. “I see you.”

(i see you. i’ve always seen you.)

“So yeah,” Cayde-6 nods. “That’s, that’s what I wanted to say. And if you ever want to talk about it, I can shut up long enough to listen.” He places a hand on your shoulder, before rising with a groan to his feet. “Night, Starlight,” he says, and takes up a lonely watch on the other side of the tent.

What has Cayde-6 ever been to you?

—- This is the fruit of your choice. Isolation. Ostracization. Contempt. Call to your god. What does it say to ease your suffering? —- 

(a thousand hands tighten around her throat)

—- Nothing. —- 

You look to the monolith, the living monument of another god. Your companions are mere feet from you, your Ghost shadows your shoulders, but even at this distance, you feel Its presence closer than anyone else’s. Even now, after everything you’ve done to undermine it - your inaction, your indecision, your isolation - you feel it reach out a hand. Inviting you in. 

It is not silent.