AN: Alright Guardians, welcome to my first Destiny story. I've got a pretty good idea where this one is going, so expect regular and reliable updates. Enjoy!
Blackness enveloped him, as it had for some time.
He had never imagined death would be like this, staring at blackness and drifting for an eternity as his memories faded away.
Then again, he didn't really remember how he imagined death. In fact, as he sorted through his remaining memory, he found he had forgotten even the simplest of things. What seemed like only moments ago, he had forgotten his own name, and he had no recollection of how he died, or where, or why.
The only thing he could remember now was something called training. For him it was less of a memory and more of a basic instinct.
He didn't know how or where he had acquired this instinct, but it was there none the less. It taught him to use weapons, armor, battlefield tactics. In a way, it scared him that the only thing he remember about his life was that he had lived, and that he had lived to fight.
What he had fought was anyone's guess, but he remembered that it was powerful, powerful enough to kill him, and by the limited memory he had, many others.
He still had the urge to try and fight that same enemy, but he knew it was futile. Even as his memory drifted away he still held to the fact that death was permanent.
He floated like this for what seemed like ages, losing more and more of his memory until he saw, in the distance, a spark of light.
He focused on that light. It was warm, soothing, healing; a welcome change from the blackness and something he wanted to be as close as possible to.
He slowly felt himself regain control of his body as he focused on the light and it began to fill his vision. He smiled as the light slowly began to take up his entire field of view, warming his extremities as it materialized into an image of a forest, rusted cars, and a wall.
Somehow he knew that wall was important, and that he needed to get to it.
He fought against his own paralysis, struggling to move his arms and legs so he could touch this image and figure out it's significance, and maybe use it to recover his many lost memories
Words began to fill his mind that he knew had to do with this image; Russia, Cosmodrome, defend, evacuation, and the collapse among them.
The feeling in his arms and legs flooded back to him as he began to piece these words into their places. This was an image of The Cosmodrome, in a place called Russia. He had died died defending this place from an event called The Collapse.
In his rational mind, none of that made any sense. As far as he was concerned he had spent his whole life drifting in this black void. His memory extended no further, but his instincts told him that he could go there.
This image and this light was all too important.
He thrashed, struggling to move any part of his body. He inhaled a deep breath, something he hadn't done in a long time, and then he woke.