A hand strokes down her cheek, then smooths down and cups her breast. Another hand rubs through her hair, massaging her scalp, and she moans with pleasure. Osiris has returned. A third hand reaches down and strokes her inner thigh.

A third hand?

She opens her eyes with a gasp and sees two of Osiris’ reflections leaning over her. Their touch is warm and almost as solid as flesh. She watches them, waiting to see what they will do, and the one touching her thigh moves its hand up and strokes its fingers over her sex. She can feel its hum in its fingers.

They wait, watching her. “What are you doing?”

“Whatever you like.”

“We could wash your hair.”

As the one that’s spoken is still stroking her sex it’s clear that they aren’t here to wash her hair. “You two are giving me terrible ideas.”

“Two?” says another reflection from the doorway. Behind him she can see another.

“How many of you are there?”

“We are infinite.”

“Oh, I see. Like his ego.”

The reflections laugh, and she wonders if they are amused, or just pretending. “Do you feel things? Want things?”

“We are his echoes. We want what he wants.”

“He wants you very much.”

“Won’t he be angry with you? Jealous?”

The reflections laugh again, a low chuckle so like Osiris’s own. “He will be interested in the raw data.”

“Our experiences can be transferred.”

“He won’t be angry with you, either. We are he.”

Cresora snorts. “Oh, good to know. I was terribly worried.” She eyes, them, amused and curious. “Keep going, then. Gather your data.”

They lift her out of the bath and dry her with towels, and with warm hands pressed against her body they escort her to the bed and lay her down.

Their fingers feel warm as they stroke over her skin, and she closes her eyes and enjoys the feel of four? Five? Six? Pairs of hands. She feels a mouth on her breast, and then one on her other, and they suck, their mouths as wet and warm as any living man’s.

Several hands spread her legs open and they run their fingers over her thighs, her sex, the soft folds. Fingers rub over her clit, many fingers, each dipping down to push just a little way into her and then back up again. She feels a tongue on her clit and it moves exactly as Osiris’ does, licking slowly, firmly, but with that hum again.

Her voice tight with pleasure, she asks, “How do you know how to do it just like that?”

They answer. Not the one busy with her clit, but the others. “Our experiences can be transferred.”

“He transferred these to us.”

“He told you what I like in bed?”

“Tell is…not the right word.”

“We just know.”

“We know everything Osiris knows.”

Several fingers, she can’t even tell how many or who they belong to, push slowly into her and she lets out a low moan.

There’s a dark chuckle from the other side of the room. “Enjoying yourself, little bird?”

Cresora opens her eyes and sees Osiris sitting on the sofa beneath the window, one long leg crossed over the other.

She looks round and counts six reflections touching and licking her. “This was their idea, for the record. I was just having a bath.”

He smiles wider. “Actually it was my idea.”

“Have you been here all this time?”

“No, I was running a simulation. But I made every effort to finish quickly so I could come back and find out what was happening here.”

His reflections were having sex with her, that was what was happening. “Would you like to join us?”

“No. I’d like to watch.”

One of the reflections is still licking her and she has to pause and flex her hips and cry out. “Your ego really has no limits.”

Three different reflections have fingers inside her and are fucking her slowly. The pleasure that is building is intense, and as her climax grows she doesn’t break eye contact with the flesh and blood Osiris, not until the last possible moment and her eyes close and her orgasm breaks through her.

When she opens her eyes she see that he’s has drawn closer and is looking down at her and smiling. “Very few, little bird. Very few. But I’m not looking at them, I’m looking at you. How beautiful you are, my golden-eyed girl, limned in gold.”

She grabs his wrist and pulls him down to her. “I think there’s room for one more.”

The other women gathered around her.

“All right,” said Piax, pointing at a place on map. “We’ll start here and work in a clockwise direction, moving outwards. Happy to navigate?” she asked Cresora, who nodded.

They set off, and Cresora found herself walking alongside Andara, with Piax in front and Mercy bringing up the rear. The only sound was the occasional report of Mercy’s scout rifle as she took pot shots at wriggling Hive worms.

Mercy was the first one to get bored and strike up a conversation. “Hey, so our dear queenie. How do you know she’s on the Dreadnaught?”

Like Andara and Cresora, Mercy was Awoken. “I had a vision during the Red War that she was here. Osiris helped me uncover the rest of it.”

Behind her helm, Andara made an angry little sound. Cresora glanced at her. Curious.

The next seven hours was spent tramping from one room to the next through dark and dirty tunnels, clearing out Hive as they went. Mostly it was Thralls and Knights with the occasional Ogre and coven of Wizards to liven things up.

Late in the day they found themselves back in that vast cavern room, except this time it wasn’t empty. A Hunter was leaping from plinth to plinth, his cloak streaming out behind him and a conga line of screaming Thrall following his every move.

“Who is that?” Mercy said admiringly.

The Hunter suddenly turned, pulled a sniper from his back and aimed straight down the line of Thrall. There was a report like a lightning strike and they all disintegrated at once and fell into the abyss. The gunshot had briefly lit the Hunter, his cloak blazing yellow.

Andara cried out, “Shiro.”

The Hunter turned at the sound of his name, hailed the group, and then leapt lightly down to them. Andara ran and threw her arms around him and the Exo pressed his forehead against her helm. One of her hands traced his mouth plates, Void Light shimmering beneath her gloved fingers.

“What are they doing?” Cresora whispered to Piax. Whatever it was looked sweet and tender, and a pang of loss went through her, seeing Andara in the Hunter’s arms.

“Kissing,” the Titan murmured, and drew her away. “They haven’t seen each other in weeks.”

The pair exchanged quiet words together and then turned to the rest of them. Andara was practically bouncing on her toes, the happiest Cresora had ever seen her.

“Lady Guardians,” Shiro said, nodding to each of them in turn.

[Wow. He’s polite] Cresora’s Ghost said silently.

Isn’t he, she replied, liking him immediately. He wore brown leather gear over his lean Exo frame, and his cloak was a brilliant shade of canary yellow.

“Andara tells me you’re looking for the Queen of the Reef. I’ve been tasked with looking for something, too. Wanna team up?”

Piax laughed. “Are you kidding? Of course. But I guess you can’t tell us what you’re looking for?”

He hesitated, apologetic. “A set of runes, essentially. I wish I could tell you more. Orders from the Vanguard.”

They started walking and Mercy fell into step beside Shiro. “Thank the Traveler you’re here. This Fireteam was starting to get swamped with Warlocks.”

“Two. Two Warlocks, Mercy,” Andara said, holding up two fingers.

“Yeah, exactly. Swamped.”

When they stopped to make camp Cresora eyed Andara curiously, but waited for Shiro to peel himself away from her side. When he went with Mercy to do a quick patrol Cresora sat down next to her. “Do you know Osiris?”

Piax, who was flattening out her bedroll, started at the name and looked over at her friend. Andara seemed to choose her words carefully. “Not exactly. I had a run in with him a very long time ago.” She looked narrowly at Cresora. “You’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”

Friendly. Whatever they were to each other it wasn’t friendly right now. How happy she’d been when she’d woken up and found him sleeping by her bedside. He’d heard her, all the way in the Infinite Forest, and had found her. But to have seen what he saw and left the queen to her fate when he thought she was dead was too horrifying. “Not exactly. It’s complicated.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me.”

Cresora didn’t want to pry, but she knew so little about Osiris. “Can I ask what happened between the two of you?”

Andara grimaced, but started talking. “I was rezzed for the first time about a year ago, the same time as Piax, but unlike other Guardians I could remember my life before.”

“But that’s impossible.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m getting to that. I was a Dead Orbit scavenger back when the Walls were new and I died protecting Zavala’s then-girlfriend from a Concordat heavy with a shotgun. He was about to blast her Ghost to pieces during a riot and I stepped in front of the barrel. It was so fucking stupid. I don’t know what made me do it.”

Piax shook her head. “You were a Guardian then even if you didn’t know it. It’s what any of us would do.”

Cresora was confused by this, but waited for the Warlock to keep talking.

Andara looked angry and embarrassed. “Yeah. Maybe. But the point is that when that shotgun killed me I was actually a Ghostless Guardian but I didn’t know it. Hence why I could remember that death and my life as a scavenger when I was revived several hundred years later. Someone found my Ghost and woke her up.”

“How could you not know that you were a Guardian?”

“Osiris,” she muttered darkly. “It seems I really was a Dead Orbit scavenger in my first life and when I was rezzed on Mercury for the first time, really for the first time, me and my Ghost walked into one of his weird experiments while trying to find our way to the Last City.” She glanced at her Ghost which was hovering next to her. “It did something to her. She can’t speak, and I don’t even know her name.”

There was such a look of sadness on Andara’s face. Not being able to hear your Ghost? That was a terrible thing. Cresora’s Ghost had been her only true friend on many lonely missions.

Andara’s Ghost did a sad little swoop and booped her on the nose, making the purple-haired Warlock smile wanly. “My memories are very confused. I remember being in a jumpship with Osiris. Him asking my name and all these other questions and me being unable to answer. In the end he dropped me off at the Last City outside Dead Orbit headquarters. Because of my gear.”

“He just left you with Dead Orbit?”

The Warlock nodded. “Yeah. Real nice, huh? And then with what happened to poor Lyssa, I just, ugh. Osiris is like my least favourite person. Lyssa was Zavala’s girlfriend,” she added, seeing Cresora’s frown.

“What happened to her?” Cresora asked. Then she glanced at Piax, remembering that the Titan seemed to be involved with the commander now. “Oh—sorry. Rude question.”

Piax shook her head. “It’s all right. Osiris was her mentor. After she and Zavala broke up she died on Mercury looking for him, like Saint. No letters, though. Just gone.”

“She was really nice to me,” Andara said quietly. 

Shiro and Mercy had come back and had heard the last part of their conversation. Mercy whistled through her teeth, long and low. “That man sure leaves a lot of messes in his wake.”

Cresora lay down on her pallet, feeling worse for having heard all this. She remembered what he’d said to her when he was trying to convince her that she should let him help her.

I’ve made a lot of people angry with me over the cycles and I can honestly say not once has it bothered me.

[Maybe it should have] her Ghost said, hovering above her.

Yeah. No kidding.

They were walking through some dungeons the next day when a Vex portal opened in a blaze of silver light.

Shiro, the only one who hadn’t seen the Vex portal open in the Tower, was the most alarmed. “Vex! Vex on the Dreadnaught.”

Cresora sighed. “No. It’s Osiris.”

But it wasn’t just Osiris. As he stepped through the portal there was a large, struggling bundle heaved over one of his shoulders, and when saw Cresora he strode forward and threw it at her feet. The figure rolled in the dust and turned onto its back. It was Uldren Sov, Prince of the Reef Awoken, bound and gagged and wriggling like an angry worm.

Mercy snickered. “Aw. Osiris brought you a present.”

Cresora looked up into Osiris’s hawk-like eyes. “What’s this?”

The others, sensing that this was a good time to make themselves scarce, drew away. Piax grabbed a fistful of Uldren’s shirt and dragged him with her.

Osiris pulled his bandana down. “I’m helping you get what you need. You can tell the prince what you know.”

“It’s a little late for that. You should have gone to him when you thought I was dead.”

His eyes were hard and angry. “I thought she’d killed you, her and her brother. I never liked their sneering, their politics. What they did to you—”

She interrupted him. “What they did to me was perfectly understandable. I was a spy. Of course they hated me. If you want to help with this, fine, but why did you have to bring Uldren?”

“Because he’s enjoying himself being Kell of House of Kings and if anyone should be suffering over this is should be the Queen’s own brother.”

Cresora cast her eyes at the ceiling. He’d kidnapped a Fallen Kell and dumped him at her feet like a sack of potatoes. “Traveler’s Light, Osiris. Kings is going to be so mad at you.”

“They can get in line behind the Vex, the Vanguard and you. And I only care what you think, little bird.”

Her face hardened. “Don’t call me that. I’ve been finding out more about your mistakes these last few days. It seems you’ve been making them for some time.”

Before he could ask what she meant Uldren, who’d been untied, strode forward. “I’ll make you pay for this, old man,” he seethed.

Osiris threw him a gun, and the prince caught it. “So good to see you again, Sov. Try not to die.”

Piax looked at Cresora expectantly, glancing meaningfully at the newcomers. They had been four and now they were seven. Cresora blew out her cheeks. “I guess we keep looking? Osiris and the Prince can do what they like.”

The Titan nodded. “All right. We should split up into two groups and—”

“We should stay together,” Osiris interrupted. “A Fireteam of six is the best size when facing the Hive. He doesn’t count,” he added, glaring at the prince.

“Piax is Fireteam leader, Osiris. If you want to stay then follow her orders.”

Osiris seemed to grit his teeth, his eyes flashing. “Piax,” he said, making an effort to sound polite, “if you’re concerned about doing this in the fastest possible time may I suggest we use my reflections? They can search and report back much faster than we can.”

As he spoke half a dozen gleaming reflections split off from his body, all identical copies. Piax looked around at them, bewildered, and then nodded. “Yeah, okay. Use the reflections. Send them to the most inaccessible parts of the ship first. We’ll keep searching these middle sectors.”

Shiro cleared his throat. “Osiris. I’m looking for a certain set of Hive runes. Can your reflections do two things at once?”

The Warlock gave him a long, curious look. “Of course. What are they?”

The Exo Hunter hesitated, clearly wondering whether to trust an outsider with details about his mission. He dug out a datapad and passed it to Osiris, who studied the screen and gave it back.

“Yes. They’ll search for those runes at the same time.”

Cresora thought she saw a gleam of interest in Osiris’s eyes and wondered if the runes meant anything to him. As they began walking Osiris drew up beside her, but she walked faster until she caught up to Piax.

“How’s Eris Morn?” the Awoken Prince asked Osiris in a nasty tone of voice. “I hear she’s not herself these days.”

Mercy put a boot on his backside and shoved. “That way. Your Highness.”

“Hunter solidarity,” Shiro said as he walked beside her.

“Word,” she muttered, bumping the fist he offered. Then she glanced at Osiris and sighed. “Another Warlock. Outnumbered again.”

Uldren quickly became the most tedious part of the search. As they marched from room to room he complained about the pointlessness of what they were doing. “What are we even looking for?”

“A sarcophagus of some kind. She’s being kept in something ritualistic.”

“What utter rubbish.”

Cresora rounded on him. “Don’t you want to find your sister?”

“She’s dead. She died in battle. If there were visions to be had of her, I would have been the one to have them.” He looked at her with loathing. “Not someone like you.”

Osiris conspicuously reloaded his weapon. “Sov—”

“It’s fine, just ignore him, we need to keep moving.”

Mercy stepped forward. “If he’s not interested in helping we could always leave him here.”

The prince sneered at her. “Mind your own business, Fallen Fucker.”

Cresora eyed Mercy’s House of Dusk cloak. So that’s why she wore it. Mercy spat back something in Eliksni that the prince clearly understood as he aimed his weapon at her. Andara and Shiro both sprang to Mercy’s defence.

Meanwhile Piax was trying to be heard over all the yelling as an ominous hissing and scraping sound filled the air. Finally she shot a blast of her auto rifle into the air and shouted, “Hive.”

Thralls were flooding into the room, followed by Knights wielding wickedly serrated swords. Osiris launched himself into the air, fire blazing around a sword that he’d summoned.

On the ground, Mercy and Shiro got to work with their Arc staffs, slicing through the Thralls, Piax sent a rocket launcher shell at an Ogre and Cresora and Andara took cover and sniped. Uldren had disappeared behind a low wall.

Andara looked up at Osiris as she was reloading. He was still zipping around the room hurling flaming swords at the Hive. “He’s a asshole but your boyfriend’s kind of…you know.”

Good. Impressive. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she muttered, looking up at Osiris. “And he knows he’s kind of you know.”

It took twenty minutes and a lot of ammunition to overcome the Hive. Finally, the seven of them gathered in the centre of the room.

“All right,” Piax said, staring round at everyone, hands gripping her rifle and breathing hard. “For the rest of the patrol we are all going to focus.” Her eyes landed on Uldren. “That includes you, Your Highness. And you do not speak to my Fireteam with anything but respect. Are we clear?”

Witnessing the Guardians at work seemed to have subdued Uldren, and he merely scowled and looked away.

Two hours later they set up camp for the night. As Andara pulled off her helm Osiris glanced at her face. And then looked again.

Andara noticed. “You remember me, then.”

That seemed to startle Osiris. “You remember me. How is it that possible? When were you resurrected?”

But Andara turned away, her shoulders tight.

Cresora picked up her gun, looked at Osiris and nodded at the door. Taking her meaning he followed her out of the room. They walked along a walkway, a sheer drop on both sides.

“You remember who she is?”

He nodded. “From a long time ago. When she was mortal she was a scavenger I found disoriented on Mercury. I took her back to the Last City.”

“She wasn’t a scavenger, she was a Guardian, newly risen. She wandered into one of your experiments by mistake.”

Osiris looked at her sharply. “I didn’t know there was a Ghost. I didn’t feel her Light. How did she—Where did her Ghost—?”

But Cresora didn’t want to answer his questions. She had a few of her own. “What were you doing out there on Mercury? Her Ghost has been silent ever since it was trapped in your experiment. She doesn’t even know it’s name.”

“I was studying.”

He look annoyed, and didn’t seem to want to answer. She could well guess why. It was the work he was doing then that upset the Speaker and the Vanguard and led to his expulsion from the City. He was probably tired of defending his actions from that time. But she didn’t much care. She needed to hear it from him. “Studying what?”

“The Light. The extent to which we determine ourselves or whether the Traveler decides everything for us.”

“Does that matter?”

“Of course it matters,” he snapped. “But I wasn’t able to find out the truth so I moved on to other things. I will never stop looking for answers to the questions I have. I can see the way you’re looking at me, Cresora, but it’s the truth whether you like it or not. That is my purpose.”

She shook her head. “I admire your purpose, but you’ve left a lot of casualties in your wake in your search for answers. Andara. Saint. Lyssa.”

If he was surprised she knew about Lyssa he kept it to himself. “That all happened a long time ago, when I was far more reckless.”

Maybe it was the truth. The Vex seemed to have swallowed up most of his energies in recent decades and he had been right about Panoptes. But being right about the Vex didn’t magically make everything else right. “You never went back and tried to fix any of your mistakes.”

Osiris glanced back toward the camp. “It was such a long time ago. I’m not even sure if there’s anything I can do for her.”

“You’re supposed to be clever. Figure it out.”

When she returned to the camp Andara was reading on her pallet. Osiris could talk to her or not, that was his decision, but there was something Cresora might be able to do for Andara in the meantime. If there was one thing Cresora was really good with, it was Ghosts.

She knelt down beside the other Warlock. “Because you’re Awoken, I might have a way to help you with your Ghost. Connect with her. Would you like to try something with me?”

Andara looked at her doubtfully. “I guess. What do I, uh…?”

Cresora sat down cross-legged in front of Andara and motioned her to do the same. When they were knee to knee she said, “Close your eyes and give me your hands.”

Andara did as she was asked and Cresora began speaking softly, of the singing of the stars beyond the Reef. Of the Light that is spread throughout the universe. The Light that lived within Andara. Within her Ghost. That connected them long before even Andara’s resurrection.

She watched Andara’s face as she talked on. “It’s within all Awoken, the ability to forge connections with our minds. You and your Ghost are already strongly linked. Reach out to her with your mind. Feel her presence, and listen.”

Andara’s face suddenly creased with tears and she sobbed, pulling her hands out of Cresora grasp and covering her eyes.

“What is it?

“I can hear her singing,” Andara whispered thickly and looked up at her Ghost, tears shining in her eyes. “I can hear you.”

The Ghost whirred and danced excitedly. Piax came forward and crouched down beside her friend.

“What is your name?” Andara asked the Ghost, reaching up to pluck her out of the air and cradling her in her hands.

“What does she say?” Piax whispered.

Andara paused, listening, one hand to her mouth. “It’s hard to make out, but I think she’s saying Ayla.”

Shiro came forward and put a hand on Andara’s shoulder, and she wrapped an arm around his leg and leaned against him while she listened to her Ghost in her mind, smiling, tears trickling down her face. It was the first time Cresora had seen the Warlock smile.

She stood up and saw Osiris watching her, his eyes unreadable. He took half a step closer, and then hesitated, a question in his eyes. Part of her wanted to go to him. Put her arms around him. Rest the weight of her worries on his chest and close her eyes. It felt so good to be held by him. But the things that he’d done and hadn’t tried to fix stopped her, and she turned quickly away.

An hour later, after the others had fallen asleep, Piax came over to talk to her, whispering softly. “I was in the Tower when Osiris brought you back from the Dreadnaught. He was distraught. When he thought it was too late he started chanting something. I forget what it’s called but Andara can tell you. Some Warlock thing. It was…very moving, what he was doing and the way he feels about you. I just thought you should know. For what it’s worth.”

Cresora glanced at Osiris’s broad, sleeping back and remembered the moments before her Ghost revival. The feel of warm, golden wings wrapping around her even through the bleak certainty of death. Easing her passage.

“He hurt the man you love,” Cresora pointed out.

Piax’s mouth twisted. “He did. But from what I understand Osiris has only ever cared about his work before. If people want to change or put things right we should let them.” She studied Cresora for a moment. “I mean, that’s what we’re doing here, isn’t it?”

“I have found the queen.”

Cresora sat bolt upright on her pallet, recognising the metallic hum of Osiris’ reflections. One was standing before its master, relaying its news.

“I have found also the runes that the Hunter seeks. They are on the Hive crystal containing the Queen.”

They’d only been asleep for four hours but everyone scrambled up and grabbed their weapons. Even Uldren seemed keen to get moving, as if at last he believed that the Queen really was being held prisoner somewhere nearby.

The reflection led them on a hour-long hike through the Dreadnaught, down and down through the tunnels and into the far reaches of the ship. Waves of Cursed Thralls attacked them, their detonations fierce and sudden. The Fireteam looked down into a ritual room with a great black crystal in the centre.

“She is there,” the reflection said, and disappeared with a snap.

Piax turned to Shiro. “Is this what you were expecting to find?”

The Exo looked carefully around at the room, and then nodded.

“Is it going to be dangerous down there?”

“Yeah. I think it is.”

Piax stationed Osiris and Andara at the top of the room and told them to use their ranged supers and scouts. She turned to Cresora. “Stormcaller? You go down with Mercy and Shiro and carve it up. Uldren and I will come in from the sides with our autos.”

Osiris shook his head. “I’m a Stormcaller as well. I’ll go down, Cresora can stay up here and sn—”

“Yes, Piax, I’m going,” Cresora interrupted him. As she passed by him she hissed, “Don’t argue. You’re more use as a Dawnblade anyway.”

He caught her arm. “Be careful down there.”

Cresora looked into his tense brown eyes, not knowing what to say. She heard the soft thumps of Mercy and Shiro landing down on the ritual floor, and jumped after them.

The Hive emerged as if from nowhere, hundreds of them. Flaming swords fell all around her, burning away the enemies that might have been in range of her Stormtrance. She lobbed grenades instead, and used her fusion rifle on the toughest Knights. Traveler’s Light Osiris, I’m fine.

Until she wasn’t. Thrall came screaming out of nowhere, claws raised. She was changing to her auto rifle when her eyes swept over the crystal, and saw her. The Queen. Trapped within the crystal, her eyes wide and staring and her hands pressed against the translucent sides. Not screaming. The screaming was only on the inside.

Then the Thrall were upon her, a hissing, scratching mass. She couldn’t get her gun up to fire. A hand circled her wrist and pulled her to safety, and when she looked up it wasn’t Osiris that she saw, but the Prince.

“She’s all right, I can feel it,” he said roughly, shooting the Thrall in bursts. “We’re going to get her out but you need to keep fighting.”

Running into the centre of the room, Cresora summoned her Light and unleashed a wave of Arc energy. It swept from one enemy to the next, disintegrating them within a blaze of lightning. When the storm ended, the Hive were gone.

There were two thumps, Andara and Osiris landing next to her. She watched as Uldren and Shiro stepped forward to the crystal, searching for a way to open it. Her hands were shaking on her gun.

“It’s different to how we saw it,” she whispered to Osiris.

“We saw what she felt.”

Mara Sov came out of the crystal pale and trembling slightly, but on her own two feet. She looked around at her rescuers, her eyes half-lidded and cold. “Osiris. It has been some time.” She gave him a calculating look, and said slowly. “You knew I was here. You were going to leave me here.” Her eyes slid to Cresora. “Because of her. Petty, though understandable. She is the raven, isn’t she?”

Cresora stared at her. The queen been aware of so much throughout her entrapment?

The Queen turned to Uldren. “House of Kings. You have been busy, brother. Take me there, and we shall see what you have done.”

And with that the Queen strode carefully but solemnly out of the room, steadying with every step, as if she was growing stronger. At the threshold Uldren paused and looked back at Cresora, his mouth twisted as if with words he wanted to say. Then his eyes fell away and he strode out after his sister.

Osiris sat beside the purple-haired Warlock in the jumpship. “Can I talk to you, Andara?”

She was watching the rings of Saturn recede, and turned quickly to Osiris when she heard his voice. Shiro drew a step closer to her, his optics chilly. She put a hand on his chest. 

After taking a long, measured look at Osiris, the Hunter drew away and went to sit with Mercy.

“It’s easy not to pay attention to things when you feel important. When you feel busy. I should have realised you were a Guardian.”

Andara said nothing. The antipathy was rolling off her in waves.

“When you wandered into my experiment—

“Got caught in. I got caught in your experiment.”

“When you got caught in my experiment all I saw was a confused Dead Orbit scavenger. I never saw your Ghost.”

“She was there.”

He nodded. “I believe you. Would it help you if you had some answers? About what I was doing and what I saw?”

The young woman thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Try me.”

“I was studying the nature of the Light, looking for the way it influences Guardians and what we become. What we are. I was using my own Light and Sagira’s, teasing it apart in what I thought was a controlled environment. Then I saw you and stopped the experiment. You were very confused and couldn’t remember who you were.”

Andara glanced at the pretty golden Ghost hovering by Osiris’s shoulder. “And you didn’t mind? He would do that to you?”

[Oh, all the time, back in the old days. He experimented on both of us. Lately it’s just been Vex, Vex, Vex.] Sagira almost sounded like she missed the experiments.

The Warlock turned to him. “You should have told me at the time what had happened to me. You should have told someone at Dead Orbit. I didn’t understand anything that was happening to me. I felt so afraid.”

“I should have. I’m sorry.”

“I suppose you went right back to your experiments as soon as you dumped me back on earth.”

“I did.”

“Jeez, no wonder they banished you. Zavala might be boring and uptight but at least he cares.” She hesitated, seeming interested despite herself. “What did you find out, anyway? In that experiment.”

“Very little of interest. I gave up and moved onto Thanatonautics which I found much more rewarding. I’m sorry it wasn’t even worth it in the end, what happened to you.”

She shrugged. “Even failed experiments have their uses.”

Osiris raised an amused eyebrow. “I’ve always thought so, too.”

Andara looked at him for a long moment. “I heard you uncovered some parts of the Thanatonaut’s Lullaby. I like those passages. They’re very beautiful.”

“Have you tried it yourself?”

She shook her head. “I considered it. When I was looking for answers.”

“If you would ever like to try Thanatonautics, just because you’re interested, I would be happy to help you.”

“Maybe.” She glanced over at the others and then back at him. “Cresora’s really nice, you know.”

Osiris glanced at Cresora. Her golden eyes flickered over him and then away, and his heart constricted. “I know.”

“Then don’t be an asshole.” And with a look that could melt metal the Warlock turned away, and Osiris supposed that was as close to I forgive you as he was going to get from Andara.

He found her at the railings, looking out over the Last City. Cresora looked up at him as the golden light burnished his face.

“How does it feel? Now that it’s over.”

She smiled out across the houses and streets, at the pink clouds skirting the setting sun. “Better than I thought it would. It’s over. I’m so happy it’s over.”

The relief knowing that the Queen was free had been quickly replaced by a sense of elation. She didn’t owe them anything anymore, and they could think of her what they liked. She never had to think of them again.

He nodded slowly, and then let out a long, heavy sigh. “Things are not good between us. I wish I knew how to make things right.”

She remembered what he said to her when she was distraught over Uldren and the Queen.

I’ve made a lot of people angry with me over the cycles and I can honestly say not once has it bothered me.

Are you admitting to having made mistakes?

Cresora, I’m saying that there a thousand things I would devote my time to before I thought even one less than admiring thought about you.

“I am grateful, Osiris. Thank you for helping me.”

“Always. I’ll always want to help you, if you need me.” He looked at her hard, as if trying to make her believe him through sheer force of his will.

She hesitated. “I feel like there was something you were going to show me, before, when we got the vision of the Queen, but there wasn’t time.”

He looked down at her, his hand very close to hers on the railings. “Yes, there was something very special. The most important thing to me. It’s…my home, in a way. My heart. My soul.”

Is that what her own void of blackness and stars would become to her, over time, if she returned enough times? Her home? “And you were going to show me?”

“I’ll show you now, if you like.”

Their bodies were in the Simulant Past but the rest of them were in Cresora’s dark visions. She flew in a long, glorious circle, revelling in the freedom, the happiness she felt now that this place was no longer occupied by pain and screaming. 

Osiris twined around her, his feathers skimming her own, and then he flew toward the horizon. She followed. The blackness seemed to go on and on, the gold light a mere line in the distance. Then suddenly they burst through as if into sunshine, and he was all around her.

She saw him. Properly saw him. There was nothing he could hide from her as everything here was him, bright and gold and vital. Every flaw. Every strength. Is this how it was for him, when he saw her, the raven against the velvet night?

They flew up and up together, circling slowly, feathers skimming each other, higher and higher until the Light raced through them. 

When she opened her eyes she found him already watching her. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “That world of Light and gold. But the void is beautiful too. You saw the darkness and all I felt about myself in that place and you didn’t say anything. You didn’t tell me how it could be wonderful.”

“I didn’t want to tell you. I wanted you to see for yourself.”

She pressed her mouth against his, and tasted gold, shimmering against the darkness of the void.

“Little bird,” he murmured, kissing her back. “Little bird. You understand now, don’t you, why I love you? How could I not, when I saw all that you were, standing out so bright against the stars.”

They walked back to his spire, hand in hand, and in the window that looked out across Mercury, she turned to him. “What were those runes that Shiro was searching for? The ones on the Queen’s sarcophagus.”

Osiris tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pulled her closer to him. “They’re a special set of summoning runes for a ritual. Powerful ones. The Vanguard must have discovered their importance and sent Shiro to look for them.”

“What do they mean?”

He considered this for a moment, seeming reluctant to answer. “I’m not a Hive expert. Eris may now better than I do.”

“But what do you think they mean?”

“That the Hive are gathering their strength under a new leader. That the Queen was going to be used as a host. And that Savathûn is coming.”

Another Awoken Warlock with lop-sided purple hair was looking at her and scowling. “Did Ikora bawl you out? That sucks.”

Cresora looked around the deserted Bazaar, searching for an excuse to leave.

“Are you new? I haven’t seen you before. I’m—I’m Andara.” Andara scowled deeper as if she’d I’m angry instead of I’m Andara.

Cresora was about to say something about having to go when a breathless, blue-haired Titan appeared next to the Warlock. “There you are. Where’s Mercy?”

“I don’t know. I was just talking to this new Warlock because she was crying.”

The Titan beamed at her friend. “You were? All on your own? Andara, I’m so proud of you.”

Andara rolled her eyes. “Give it a bone, would you.” To Cresora she said, “Piax doesn’t think I have any social skills. Who are you, anyway?”

“Andara. Oh look, there’s Mercy.”

All three women turned to look at a Hunter sauntering across the Bazaar to join them. She was dressed in form-fitting silver and black gear and had a long, purple House of Dusk cloak draped around her shoulders.

Andara wrinkled her nose. “Do you have to wear that? It’s like a target on your back if we meet other Guardians in the field.”

“I know,” the Hunter said mournfully, pulling the fabric out to examine it. “It getting so many bullet holes in it. But why shouldn’t I wear it? Shiro wears Fallen banners.”

“Stitched together from the dozens of Fallen he’s murdered, not fu—”

Piax cleared her throat.

“Hey, new girl.” Mercy said to Cresora, before turning to Piax. “Did you hear about Osiris?”

Cresora thought she saw Andara stiffen, and Piax slid her friend a look. “What about him?”

“There’s a rumour he’s trapped in some Vex simulation without his Ghost.”

“Good,” muttered Andara.

“Oh? Have you met him?” Mercy asked.

They were all talking as if they’d known Cresora forever and she was part of their Fireteam. It was weird. How was she going to get away?

Andara was still scowling, so Piax provided, “Not exactly. Not that she can remember. It’s complicated. I never met him either, of course, because I’m such a baby. Have you met him?”

“Oh, yeah. Back when he was Vanguard Commander. Sent me and my Fireteam off to Mercury chasing some Vex mind.”

“What was he like?”

“Big. Impatient. Such a poser, but kind of sexy in this grizzled old man way. Almost said Yes, daddy instead of Yes, sir when he finished his briefing.”

Andara mimed gagging.

Mercy gave her a lazy grin. “You’re such a prude.”

“And you’ll fuck anyth—“

Piaxed clapped her hands. “All right, time to go. Lord Saladin is expecting us.” She turned to Cresora. “You’re welcome to join us if you like. We’re not running priority missions. Have you got your own Fireteam yet?”

But Cresora was backing away, muttering vague excuses, and she turned and hurried toward the hanger. The last thing she needed was to be around people right now. And she had her mission: patrol Mercury. Ikora hadn’t given her a reason for her assignment. Now, thanks to these Guardians, she knew why Mercury was suddenly a priority.

The Tower, Present day

A brisk wind blew rose petals around the Plaza. Zavala looked at Piax and smiled. There were more rose petals in her hair and her face was grimy with sweat and dust. “Hello, sweetheart. I hear you two won every Crimson doubles match you entered.”

The taller Titan grinned. “Yep, every match. Andara had some frustrations to work out.” She nibbled on her lip, thoughtful. “Are you sure she can’t know where Shiro is? It doesn’t seem right. It would break my heart if it was you.”

Zavala shook his head. “It’s not up to me. The Consensus decided and he agreed. It won’t be forever, if that’s any comfort to Andara.”

“I know,” Piax said gloomily. “It’s just that—”

She broke off as a strange grinding sound filled the air. There was an explosion of silver light, and then a triangular Vex portal appeared just a few feet from where there were standing. What the hell? She pulled her rifle from her back and braced for gunfire.

Zavala called across to the gunsmith. “Banshee.”

The Exo, understanding immediately, threw an auto rifle across the thirty foot gap and Zavala caught it, checked the clip and aimed it at the portal. A dozen more Guardians came running, pulling the weapons from their back and standing in an attack formation before the glowing portal.

A few tense seconds passed, and then a large figure stepped through cradling a dirty bundle in his arms. It wasn’t moving. The figure looked around at the two dozen weapons pointed at his head and in an angry, accented voice ordered, “Stand down.”

The Guardians didn’t move, but the unknown man ignored them and laid his bundle out on the concrete.

Piax saw it was a young woman and her face was a terrible grey and her eyes were closed. “I know her. She’s a Warlock. He looks like a Warlock, too.”

“He is,” Zavala muttered, stepping forward. “Stand down, all of you. Osiris?”

Piax felt her eyebrows shoot up. So this was the Osiris she’d heard so much about. The Guardians followed their Vanguard leader’s order and lowered their guns.

The exiled Warlock’s voice was husky with emotion. “Her Ghost. Ikora has it.” A spiky golden Ghost whirred by his shoulder. [I’ll find Ikora. Stay with her.]

Zavala pointed to his left. “That way, Sagira. Down in the bazaar.” He watched the Ghost race off, angry about the Vex portal that had appeared in the middle of the Tower, though it did seem like it was an emergency. He stood over Osiris, his jaw clenched.

Piax put a hand on the barrel of his gun, gently pushing it down. He hadn’t realized he’d still been aiming at the former Vanguard Commander.

Osiris was picking at the mess of ruined robes and black, slimy blood and gore covering the Warlock’s midsection. He was muttering under his breath and though she couldn’t understand the strange words he sounded bleak and angry.

A minute passed, and Osiris looked up wildly at the circle of people around him. His gaze fixed on Zavala and he yanked his bandana down. “Laazazel! Where is her Ghost?”

No one replied, and he pulled the Warlock into his arms and began speaking in a low, cracked whisper. It sounded like some sort of chant. The breeze scattered them with pink and red rose petals as black blood seeped over the ground.

Andara had appeared by Piax’s side and she said softly, “Why is he saying that? It’s from The Thanatonaut’s Lullaby.”

“Is it? I think it’s because she’s dying. No Ghost.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Come on. We should move back.”

The two women drew back to the Cryptarch’s tent and watched Osiris and the girl on the ground, Zavala standing a few feet away. The minutes ticked by and the unconscious girl didn’t move. It didn’t even seem like she was breathing.

Then, finally, the golden Ghost reappeared, another at its side.

[Osiris! I found him. Cresora’s Ghost. Is she still alive?]

Cresora opened her eyes and saw Osiris slumped in a chair, fist pressed against his temple and his eyes closed.

Her throat was dry but she managed to say, in a cracked whisper. “Hey, big bird.”

He sat up with a sharp intake of breath, blinking to clear his eyes. “Cresora.” He came across to the bed and gripped her hand, cursing or saying endearments, she couldn’t tell which.

She vaguely remembered waking up on the ground in the Tower, Osiris holding her. That Titan woman had helped her into bed. Piax. That was her name. And this was her flat. She’d been so out of it after her Ghost revival, full of Hive poison and completely exhausted from days staying awake. Trying to stay alive.

And miraculously, she was. She pulled Osiris down against her. “You found me,” she whispered between kisses. “You found me.” She ran her tongue over his lower lip and sucked it gently into her mouth, her strength pouring back as she felt his Light humming against hers.

His voice was rough as he broke the kiss. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone. You could have died. You wanted to die, didn’t you? Cresora, I’m not going to let you do anything like that ever again.”

She smiled, his beard bristles rough against her lips. “That’s not up to you.”

“It will be, little bird. I’ll find a way. Don’t think I’m too proud bring Ikora into this.”

Cresora kissed him again, arching against him, and he groaned and wrapped his arms tightly around her, feeling her body through the thin nightshirt, rucking it up to her waist. His thumbs rubbed over her ribs and she gasped against his mouth. He pushed the shirt up further, and her underwear down her legs, kissing her all over with hungry, open-mouthed kisses while she did her best to remove his complicated robes.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathed, her eyes closed as he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. “You heard me, didn’t you? Saying your name. I was dying and you followed the sound of my voice.”

He sat up and pulled his robes off and sank back down to her. He had her spread open beneath him and when he felt her slipperiness against his fingers he was too impatient to wait. He took himself in his hand, the blunt tip of his cock sliding down her sex. She put her hand over his, guiding him in, and pulled him closer with a cry as he sank into her.

“I mean it,” he growled as he thrust into her, barely remembering what he did mean, only that he meant this, what he was doing, very much. He wanted her here, beneath him, with her small body wrapped tightly around him, hot and tight and his. Where he could see her. Where he knew she was safe.

He pushed her thighs up to her shoulders and bore down heavily, needing to drive himself deeper. Pleasure-pain flickered over her face and her nails dug into his shoulders. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, easing up a little.

“Yes. Please don’t stop.” She breathed hard in time with his thrusts, open mouthed, watching him. She took him all the way to the hilt, over and over, her golden eyes darkening and becoming unfocused but never looking away from his face. He didn’t really believe yet that he had her back, that after weeks of despair, she was here, hot and vital and alive beneath him. They’d barely had any time together but he was hungry for more of her. Her cleverness. Her soft, yielding body. That dense black expanse of her visions that lived inside her, unexplored. But that would come later. He didn’t want her dying now. It was too painful a thought, not when she’d nearly died her last death in his arms. He’d whispered the lullaby to ease her passing, his voice thick in his throat, needing to make it easier in any way he could. Not knowing if she was already gone.

She licked her fingers and reached down between them, rubbing on her clit. He was fascinated by the delicate movements of her hand, that tiny spot that caused such pleasure with the smallest of touches alongside his long, rough thrusts. Sweet little bird. Her skin glowing. Her eyes bright and golden.

He felt her tightening around him, crying out in harsh, urgent sounds, and then her head fell back and she clamped down on his cock, her body arching against his. Fuck, she was so beautiful. Perfect and whole when just a short time ago she’d been rank with death. I’m the only one who gets to push her that close to the precipice, he thought, eyeing her throat in the seconds before his own climax was upon him. I’m the only one, and it should be beautiful brutality and starlight, not rank desolation. He groaned through his climax and pressed his face into the curve of her neck as she marked his back with her nails.

Breathing hard, he held her tightly, still inside her as she kissed him. She whispered, “I’m all right now. I’m all right.”

It took him a long time to let her go, to ease down next to her on the narrow bed. She still wore the nightshirt and as he smoothed it back down over her breasts he noticed a faded emblem on the pocket. “What’s that?”

“Don’t know. Maybe a Titan symbol?”

He examined it more closely and saw that it was red, black and gold. “No. It’s the Vanguard mark. Zavala’s colours—” He laughed helplessly and scrubbed a hand over is face. He’d just made love to Cresora while she was wearing one of Zavala’s old t-shirts. “And I thought today wouldn’t get any stranger.”

Cresora pulled the t-shirt out and looked down at it. “So it is. Piax must be close to him, I guess. You and Zavala aren’t friendly, are you?”

He imagined the look of distaste on Zavala’s face if he ever found out about this; remembered the way he’d been the last to lower his weapon in the Plaza earlier. “Not exactly.”

Still smiling, he caressed her cheek, pushing her black hair back from her face. “Come back to the forest with me. You need a proper rest.”

Cresora rubbed her fingers over his collarbone. Down his chest. “I’d like that. I’ll need to make another sniper rifle. Raven’s Flight is at the bottom of a pit.”

Osiris tightened his grip on her. “It doesn’t matter. I got my Raven back. Everything else is replaceable. And I meant what I said. It’s not on, trying to die because you’ve made mistakes. Death is for learning. Death is for overcoming.”

She sighed heavily. “More mistakes. Another failed mission. Maybe I do need a proper rest. Did Uldren get her out?”

Osiris hesitated.

“Osiris? You did send word to the Reef or the Prince that the Queen needs rescuing?”

He cleared his throat. “Not exactly, little bird.”

She sat up quickly, pulling away from him. “Not exactly? What does that mean? I’ve been missing for weeks.”

But he didn’t need to answer. She could tell from the look on his face that he hadn’t tried to contact anyone about the queen at all. “You didn’t do what I asked even though you thought I was dead.”

He pushed himself up on the bed, brown eyes flashing. “Yes. I thought you were dead. That was all I could think about. I didn’t give a damn about the Queen of the Reef and I still don’t.”

The Queen was still on the Dreadnaught, writhing in pain. Being tortured. He’d seen that for himself and he’d left her there. He’d gone against Cresora’s wishes—her last wishes. Who does that? Who even is he?

If I’d died no one would ever have known where the Queen was.

She reached down beside the bed and hurled his robes at him. “Get out.”

Piax found Cresora in the tiny living room wearing her mended and clean robes and lacing up her boots with angry flicks of her wrists. Osiris had been there earlier but Piax couldn’t see him or hear him in the bedroom. “You okay?”

The Warlock looked up. She was petite and very striking with her golden eyes. “I need a Fireteam to do something dangerous, but important. You and those other Guardians. Mercy and Andara. Do you want in?”

It had been months since the four of them had stood together in the Bazaar. “You remember their names.”

“Yes. I have a good memory, though I’m not very good at working as a team. But I’m going to try. And I need a new sniper rifle.”

None of her Fireteam were very good at working as a team. That was what made them…special, Piax supposed. A Hunter who got up close and personal with the enemy. A Warlock with a chip on her shoulder about everyone and everything. Gruff, grumpy Lord Saladin who’d bedden on his own for a millennia. A Vanguard scout who went for months without speaking to anyone else. Herself, trying to keep them all together, all focused, and not at each others throats.

And now Cresora. Whoever she was. A small, angry mystery. “Andara’s got a few good snipers. And we’re in.”

Cresora straightened in surprise. “Really?”

Piax smiled at her. “Yes. We like dangerous and important missions very much.”