Aspects of the Guardian
Introduction
The Traveler. Such a humble name for something so incredible; a being of machine and mind and light, powerful enough to cross galaxies and more. It came to us in a time when were complacent, stagnant; warring with ourselves for the remaining resources of our over-populated mud ball. It arrived without warning, without sign; one day, a research satellite orbiting mars reported odd signals and relayed a grainy, distorted image of a large, shining white sphere. It was decided that a manned party be sent to repair the probe, because of course it was damaged! Nothing could just appear like that!
Well. The Traveler could.
In the wake of its discovery, humanity was catapulted centuries, even millennia ahead in science and technology; medicine became so advanced that disease was trivialized, lifespans were tripled- even quadrupled- and colonies began sprouting up everywhere mankind could reach. It seemed as if we had reached a golden age that would never end, all of it possible due to a simple gift from the Traveler.
Then we encountered the Darkness. Not much is known about the Collapse of the Golden Age, except that it was quick, brutal, and pushed mankind back from the solar system, corralling them on Earth, even as the Traveler tried it's hardest to push back the invasions of the races that besieged us.
The Cabal, hulking war-mongering humanoids from a high pressure environment. Their advance was slow, but unstoppable. They pushed us from Mars, from our shining cities, creating an exclusion zone we could not enter without being slaughtered.
The Vex, a mechanical hive mind spanning galaxies; they arrived from nowhere, slaughtering all they came across and began converting Venus into one of their great machines, for an unknown purpose.
The Fallen, vaguely insectoid scavengers. Although hints were found showing they might have once been greater than what they are now, all that humanity has witnessed is a swarming, greedy expanse into Earth's lands, driving us back into out last city, out last stronghold.
The Hive. Creatures from the grave, rotting, chittering hordes of varying sizes but with only one goal: KILL. They drove us from our moon, our oldest colony and began tunneling and hollowing the planetoid, breeding and waiting.
And the Darkness itself. A mysterious force, seemingly driving all four races to annihilate humanity even as they squabbled amongst themselves for territory. It was an odd thing, both insubstantial and ethereal while still stifling all life it touched. It oozed throughout our solar system, covering each planet one by one until it had cornered us and the Traveler on Earth, confined us to our last City.
And, in desperation, the Traveler struck back.
With a wave on incredible energies, born of Light- what we called the soul- washed through the world and spread, pushing back the Darkness, sending the Hive scuttling underground to hide, suppressing the Vex's communication and forcing the Cabal and Fallen to retreat the their strongholds, lest their ships fall from the skies and burn.
It worked; it gave humanity breathing room, a chance to rebuild and plan, so maybe- JUST MAYBE- have a chance at succeeding.
But only Humanity. For as it had fought for us, the Traveler, the closest thing we knew of to a God, had been mortally wounded. The last push was is last, spiteful blow against its antithesis- giving its life so we might survive, and for the faint hope we might succeed where it had failed.
Here is where records are conflicting- What happened just after the massive push that let us live on to this day. Most records hold that the Ghost's, small bits of the traveler's soul housed in machinery and impossibility, arrived with that last breath, given life from its death.
This isn't true, and I am living proof.
You see, even for all its power and knowledge, the Traveler wasn't all knowing. It knew what it would do, and it had steeled itself to do so, but it was not sure how to give humanity a fighting chance- even the lowliest of its enemies would lay low even the most highly trained human with little effort.
And so, even as it gathered its Light for the final blow, it broke off bits of itself- from that deeper, indefinable thing called the Soul that Light springs from- sending them into the void between spaces to find long-dead avatar's for its wrath.
It didn't work. The darkness, feeling the intrusion across the system, fell upon those defenseless motes with an unholy hunger, ripping and tearing, rendering the effort wort naught. Frustrated by its failure, the Traveler did something else- it housed bits of its power in shells, showed them how to find the warriors that were needed, and empowered them to release the light from their own souls as a weapon.
And as such, the Ghosts were born.
And in the confusion of so much power being released so explosively, and so many newborn Lights in existence, the Darkness missed a single fragment of the Traveler's soul, the smallest, simplest piece.
It found me; someone not long dead or still fighting. No, it found me when I was but a babe- one of the first changed by the explosion of power- one of the first Awoken.
It found me, and joined with me, making me the first- and last- son of the traveler, and with all that entails.
Not that I knew that at the time.
My name is Faelin Slate, and I am the first Guardian.
