The moments after the battle were a blur for Aloy. Heart pounding, sweat dripping into her eyes, she had frantically surveyed the damage. Her friends had survived at least, though Varl had sustained a nasty cut above his eyebrow that he held a cloth to, already stained dark with blood. Erend and Talanah looked ashen and shaky, but offered up smiles as she glanced between them.

They had done it.

But for Aloy, there was no release of the tension bubbling inside her.

They had done it.

But at what cost?

When they descended the Spire, what exactly would they find? Bile rose in her mouth as she recalled the twisted metal and burning wood as she had sprinted past. Would anything be left at all?

They helped each other down in a haze, unsteady legs on unsteady ground. The smoke rose to meet them as they came down, thick ash, black as coal. Villagers had put out the worst of the fires, but it took them several hours before all were quenched.

All her friends had survived, miraculously, though some had been wounded rather seriously. Aloy herself hadn't noticed the cuts on her until Teb had already come to stitch her up.

The world moved in a haze for her the rest of the day. The machines seemed to be altogether much different creatures, drifting away from the torn city and back into the lush jungles of the jewel, and there were cries and shouts in the streets until early in the morning, celebrations only breaking apart when all were far to exhausted to stand.

Aloy had tried; cajoled by a very drunk Erend, she sat with tight shoulders and a fake smile as people around her sang and shouted. Bawdy drinking songs and the thick smell of alcohol and sweat pervaded. But when they began to crowd in to get a look at the "savior of Meridian", it finally became too much. Quietly she slipped out the back of the tavern, into the balmy night air.

Even with all of the things she longed for as a child, these displays had never been one of them. It was all too much, too loud, too bright for her, and so she found solace in the familiar.

Her path led her to the maizelands, emptied now of workers, where the fighting had not touched the land as badly. There were still the corpses of Ravagers and Glinthawks here and there, which she gave a wide berth. The moon was full, and shown down on the water, reflecting so brightly that at first she didn't see the movement. But she heard the sound, unmistakable now, of metal sliding on metal.

A machine was still alive.

Almost as quickly as she heard it, she saw it, a scrapper with its back legs torn off. It shuddered and shook, trying to regain its footing. Before Aloy could reach it though, already with her spear in her hand, she realized another person already was there. The hunter was sitting on her knees beside the machine, and as she sat, she stroked its shining back.

Aloy was astonished, rooted to the ground as she beheld the scene. The hunter pulled out a dagger and, murmuring something to the machine, thrust hard into its core. Sparks flew and the scrapper was still.

"Hello Nora," came a soft voice, as the woman stood.

She turned and Aloy caught the glimpse of Banuk paint on her cheeks, smeared and mixed with blood and machine oil.

"Are you alright?" asked Aloy, unsure of what exactly to say to the stranger.

"I am, thanks to you. I am Aluki of Ban-Ur." She gracefully sank back to her knees, hand resting on the scrapper as she absentmindedly stroked it.

"I wasn't the only one who fought here today."

"No, " mused the young woman, speaking slowly as if every word held great importance, "but you alone have called the blue light back into their hearts, Aloy of the Nora."

"Just Aloy, please," she said uncomfortably.

"As you wish, Just Aloy."

Despite herself, Aloy found a small smile tugging at her lips. She closed the gap between her and the strange woman, sinking down to sit with her legs crossed in front of her.

Something about this strange hunter drew Aloy to her. She seemed at peace, and peace was something Aloy craved more than anything else at this point.

"You have done a great thing today. No doubt your people will sing your songs for many years to come," said Aluki gently, glancing at Aloy from the corner of her eye.

Aloy snorted and leaned back, splaying her hands behind her. " 'My People' think I'm the child of a goddess, a holy anointed warrior to save them," she confided bitterly.

"With good reason I should say, " observed Aluki.

"Do you?"

Aluki looked up, and the two hunters locked eyes.

"Do you think I'm a goddess?" breathed Aloy.

A deep sigh escaped her and she slowed her hand on the machine. Breaking eye contact, Aluki gazed up at the stars, taking in the thousands of constellations before speaking.

"I think you are a woman. Touched by loss. Called to action by echos of songs long past, melodies resting on your shoulders."

Aloy looked down, unsure of what to say. A lump was burning in her throat, and she couldn't help but feel somehow indebted to this stranger, for this small act of kindness.

Aluki tapped the machine's hard surface. "I must give thanks. But I think. I will also sing a song for them, for all they lost."

"THEY lost? You didn't seem to upset about what they lost 5 hours ago when you shoved your spear in its face," muttered Aloy crossly.

"There is no shame in killing for survival. When the dead machines came, I killed to protect. But were they not powerless as well? Controlled by a force stronger than they,and used for a purpose they had no voice in?"

At this Aloy fell silent, almost feeling chastised. She was right, the corruption had taken over these machines that Gaia had supplied them.

"You're right, I'm sorry," Aloy acquiesced.

"A Hunter who can admit when she is wrong," said Aluki with a small smirk, " I can see that we will be friends Aloy."

Aloy smiled, a real smile which surprised her as much as anyone. How long had it been since she was like this? Not since Rost. At that thought a shadow touched her face and she drew her gaze to the ground.

Aluki missed nothing, and as Aloy's gaze fell, she turned her eyes to survey the scene.

"Much has been lost in this battle. By everyone. By you. If you will let me, I would sing the song of my people. A song of grief, and of pride. A song for all we have lost."

Aloy nodded, almost numbly.

Aluki began softly, the notes low and haunting. There were no words, but the meaning was clear beyond their need. The song swelled and filled Aloy unexpectedly. It seemed almost ethereal, and tears welled in her eyes. The grief she had so long tamped down threatening to overwhelm her. She drew a ragged breath and tilted her head up, gazing at the stars and moon. No thoughts came to her mind, instead she let the song swell inside her, carrying her home.

As the song drifted off into the air, Aloy wiped the tear from her cheek.

"Thank you," she said, voice hoarse with emotion, "That was...I've never heard anything like it."

"Songs can give peace sometimes when nothing else can. Songs connect us to who we are. To where we came from. You travel home now, do you not?"

Aloy was at a loss. Where was her home? But at the same time she did feel a sense of duty to the Nora. Misguided as they were, she was still honor bound to make sure they were alright.

"I suppose so. The other braves left immediately after the fight. The sacred land is in ruins and I know they were anxious to get back. They'll need my help." As Aloy spoke though, they felt like hollow words. Words spoken out of duty rather than longing.

"I go back as well. My heart misses the mountains. I take the path through Daytower. Perhaps we can journey together, Just Aloy."

Her first inclination was to decline. She knew she could travel faster alone and obviously Aluki was a competent fighter. And yet, practicality aside, she found that the idea of having company for the first time in such a long time appealed to her, even if it was only for a few days.

"I would be honored. We can leave in the morning when you are ready," she replied, dipping her head as the hunter rose and nimbly departed, bidding her a goodnight.

And besides what hurry was she in anymore? The threat was over now. As she swept her eyes over the calm after the storm, she repeated it like a mantra to herself.

'It's over. It's over. It's over."

But why then did she feel so sick? Knots tightened in her stomach as she tried to push away the thought:

If everything was over, why did she feel such dread?